ForceBalancePush
by TreeWithoutWood
Summary: A Breton is thrown into civil war, caught up dangerously in both sides. She fights to find the truth, risking her life and her love. Oh and Dragons, there are dragons trying to kill her and everyone. Maybe Skyrim wasn't the best idea...OC/Ulfric
1. The Breton

**Force.**Balance._Push._

The Breton

The carriage rumbled on through the falling snow, the silence of the forest was pierced with the rumble of two carts and snorting horses. The carts held Nord men and women, hands bound wearing the uniform of the Stormcloaks. The cart lurched off the dirt path into a small clearing. The drivers of the carts and the men who had ridden alongside leapt out and began to set up camp. The Nords worked in deft silence, their armour glistening and clinking as a large tent was raised from the snow covered earth, the horses were taken off the cart and led away to be de-tacked feed and watered. The prisoners in the carts watched with vague interest, they had already seen the routine from the day previous when they had been captured bound and throw onto the gods forsaken carts. The rebels had their heads bent waiting in quiet patience.

One man sat gagged and bond, watching the Imperial soldiers with contempt. Again wishing for the umpteenth time he was free from his binds so he could spill their foul blood. He unlike his captive kin he didn't wear the armour of the rebellion. He was dressed in a handsome thick cloak of silver that covered his wide shoulders and cloaked his bent figure. He was a man of wealth, power and influence. Ulfric Stormcloak. The Jarl of Windhelm. The rightful High King, a murderous bastard. A terrorist, a freedom fighter. The leader of the Stormcloaks.

''Alright get them off.'' Shouted an Imperial soldier. The Stormcloaks jumped off the back of the stationary carts watched by hard eyes, those eyes dared them to disobey to defiantly throw themselves into combat, for a bit of entertainment. A break from the frozen monotonous journey both parties had endured. None of the bound Nords rose to their captures challenge, they sat upon the cold ground near the tent in silence. Defeated and broken, Sovngarde surly waiting for them. Ulfric snarled against the cloth that cut out his speech. How dare they. How _dare _the Imperials do this to him and his men. He again bit against the cloth in his mouth, and he again pulled at the bindings at his wrists. A few of the nearby Imperials snorted and laughed amongst themselves, a bottle of mead was passed between the two. Ulfric eye's hardened. The Imperial Legion were going to be sorry. Nothing of Titus Mede's beloved Empire would be standing when he would be done with it.

...

The brother moons were high in the sky; slumber had taken hold of all but a few of the Nords. Imperial Soldiers on look out and a blond Stormcloak, his once braided hair was mattered and disheveled. Where the only ones not in sleep's deep embrace. The Stormcloak's breath swirled in a cloud around his chest, his eyes glided over his brothers in arms all breathing deeply. A sudden sound of fast approaching footsteps caught his attention. An Imperial Guard had run back from scout duty breath heavily, he spoke in a breathless whisper to the Imperials posted at the camp. The Stormcloak could make nothing out of their quick passing of words, before the Imperial again went back the way he had came followed by two other. They set off, their clinking footsteps bouncing off the trees long after they had gone. They had been urgent and quick, the Nord tried to thick of what had started them so. The Nord was left with his thoughts as he watched the horizon for the returning men.

...

Ulfric woke with a start; he looked up at to what had woken him. The moons were still high, and through the falling snow came forward four figures. Leading was an Imperial soldier then following, a young Breton being pulled along by the two Imperials that shouldered her. He watched the girl; she was wriggling in her captors grip spitting curses at the Nords who dragged her. He heard the word spy tossed between the group, which was denied fiercely with curses from the small women. The Nords easily dwarfed her, Bretons weren't known for their height. He watched as she was dragged into the tent still thrashing and howling curses. The whole camp had been awoken; murmurings were slipping between the rebels and the Imperials alike. They all watched the tent with hungry expecting eyes.

…

The time passed slowly as Ulfric watched the tent. A gust of cold air flew over the clearing, Ulfric was thankful for his cloak that kept out the cold, as he cast an eye over his men he saw all were in good health. The cold was second nature to Nords; he wondered how the Breton was fairing in the harsh constant climate. There came of burst of footsteps as an Imperial dragged the Breton out into the cold air, she was thrown roughly onto the ground amongst the Stormcloaks, she grunted and rolled to a seating position. Ulfric watched her critically, she had landed nearer to him that either would have liked. The moon cast its silver light upon her and he got his first look at her. The dim light shone upon her fair skin, her dark hair was tousled and fell in front of her eyes, her eye's met his shortly before looking away, they were pale. The cloak she had original dressed in was no longer worn. Instead she wore a rough skin tunic; it was thin and short sleeved. They had sentenced her to death; she was going to die in that thin fabric. He could see her shivering and clenching her teeth, her bound hands brought up to her chest trying to conserve heat. He shook his head and looked away from her, he noticed the Stormcloaks nearest to her were whispering and throwing skeptical and sympathetic glanced towards her. He knew in the morning when they would be forced to rise to get on the carts, they would find her body stiff and cold, vacant of life. They would tut and shake their heads and leave her for the wild to take. She would not survive the night's cold harsh embrace. She was no strong Nord women.

…

The sky was a burning pink as the Imperials rose. The horses were tacked and were again led and attached to the carts. The tent was pulled down and packed away for good. The Stormcloaks were pulled to their feet and individually thrown into the cart. Ulfric had woken long before the Imperials had risen; he had watched them hungrily and again pulled at his bindings. He watched as his men were roughly thrown into the carts, snarling into his gag. His eyes found his way for the first time that morning to the Breton. She was bent forward, her hair obscuring her face, in the sunlight her saw she had dark brown hair, it fluttered slightly in the weak wind. Revealing her face, her eyes were closed. He had been right she hadn't survived the night. Imperial bastards. Time passed and with it more Stormcloaks loaded onto the carts. Ulfric watched as the last Stormcloak was led onto the cart. Just him and the Breton left. He watched as the Imperial stooped to grab the girl by the back of her tunic, he lifted her up with ease. Her head bobbed slightly, he watched expecting her legs to give way. His eyes widened when the girl's leg jarred into a step…..another hesitant step an incoherent grumble. The sun shone in her face making her grey eyes blaze. She was led like the others onto the carts. As he was pulled to his feet Ulfric couldn't help but smile slightly. She might not be a strong Nord women. But she wasn't weak.

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><p>So here's chapter one :) I hope you liked it. Reviews are welcome as they keep me motivated. Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! :)<p> 


	2. Helgen

****gsedjkhnper OH MY GOD! I never expected to have so many wonderful reviews SO quickly. Thank you they were all wonderful :) I literally squeed like the little girl that I am when i opened up fanfiction this morning! You all get a hug 3 And for all of those people who are following and haven't reviewed yet, I hope you're enjoying the ride :3

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Helgen

The cart lurched as it passed over a stone; those bound inside it were tossed and jolted. The only women in the cart woke with a start. Her eyes opened heavy and fuzzy, she looked around at the moving scenery. It was beautiful, there were moving through a snow covered pine forest. The trees appeared to climb into the sky and touch the clouds, their branches heavy with snow. The weak sun winked between the trees as they moved along the path.

''Ah your awake,'' The young Breton turned to the kind voice and was met with the smiling face of a blond Nord. His hair once braided was mattered and dishevelled and hung limply against his face. ''You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into the Imperials, like that Horse thief.'' He said, no the Imperial soldier had walked right into her, found her wading through the snow and had called her a spy.

The Breton looked upon the horse thief, he was dressed in rags, maybe they thought his clothes had worth like they had done with her. His hair was slicked back with dirt and grime, no this man looked like he lived in rags. She tried to remember him from earlier at the Imperial camp and found she couldn't. She concluded they must have picked him up when she had been sleeping.

''Damn Stormcloaks. Empire used to be nice and lazy. I could be half way to Hammerfell by now,'' The thief looked at me, ''you and me were not supposed to be here. It's these damned Stormcloaks the Empire wants.'' From what she had gathered the Nord before her must have been a Stormcloak. Casting her eyes to the cart ahead she saw that they all must be Stormcloaks and they were against the Empire for so reason. The thief was right; they didn't belong on the cart with the Stormcloaks. Then silver caught the edge of her eye.

Sat beside her was a man dressed not in the Stormcloak armour but a silver cloak that covered his hunched figure. His hands bound like them all. But also his mouth, she found this odd. Who was he...?

''We're all in binds now thief.'' The blond Stormcloak responded soberly.

The thief paled and whimpered, he suddenly looked at the gagged man besides the young woman. He studied him for a few silent moments, then he seemed to come to the same conclusion the Breton had only moments before.

''What's wrong with him?'' All eyes turned to the silver draped man. She remembered him from the night before; he had looked at her with disdain and condescension. She hadn't liked him, he had immediately judged her. His eye's met hers they were dark and cold; those were the eyes of a ruthless man.

''Watch your tongue! You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak. The true High King.'' She had to hold back a laugh. He was a political man, of course!

A deep fear was instilled in the thief at those words.

''The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. If they've captured you...Oh Gods where are they taking us?'' The Breton watched the shaking thief, she had no idea what was going on but she had a feeling they were in deep shit.

''I don't know Horse thief, but Sovngarde awaits.''

...

The convoy passed under the stone gates the gates pushed closed with a rumble. The Horse thief was whispering hurried prayers the Divines.

''Look at him, General Tullius.'' The Breton turned to see a rather short man atop a horse. She knew of him, he was the Military Governor though she had never seen him in the flesh. She had expected him to be more...imposing...not a grey haired old man. ''Looks like the Thalmor are with him too. Damn elves.'' The Nord hissed.

She was surprised at the pure venom in his voice. She knew that the Mer and Nords had never exactly been friendly, but did the hatred really run that deep? ''This is Helgen, I used to be sweet on a girl from here.'' The Stormcloak appeared to be stuck in his memory of his lover as the convoy rumbled houses. The occupants were watching them from their porches, doorways and windows. They were a spectacle, entertainment.

...

The carts rolled to a grumbling halt.

''Why are we stopping?'' Asked the thief his voice shrill with panic.

''What do you think thief? End of the line.'' The Stormcloak responded softly.

As they rose to vacate the convoy the thief continued to yelp his and apparently the young women's innocence. The Imperials paid no head. ''Face you death with some courage thief.'' The Stormcloak scolded.

The thief turned to the Breton eyes pleading. ''You've got to tell them. We're not rebels.'' The young women wished she could have said something to consol the thief, no words came to her.

''Step up to the block when your name is called.'' Shouted an Imperial woman in far more armour then seemed portable. As the group stood the Breton became aware of much taller the Nord men were to her. All of them easily a good foot or so higher than she was, and shoulders wide as she was tall. She remember with a slight smile being told a long time ago as a child, that Nords fought bears with their fists, kept giants as pets and lived in mountains for houses. She found herself almost believing the tales.

''Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.'' Ulfric turned and walked head held high, eyes burning to stand with his already called men.

''Ralof of Riverwood.'' The blond Nord who had been kind to her followed his leader in silent acceptance.

''Lokir of Rorikstead.'' The thief stepped forward, pleading in a rushed voice.

''No, I'm not a rebel.'' The Breton's stomach sank to somewhere in her toes as she watched Lokir bolt. Then came the whistle of arrows through air, she closed her eyes. She heard a light thud. He wouldn't have gotten far anyway, the gates had been closed. Swallowing bile she opened her eyes waiting for her name to be called.

...

The Nord Imperial studied her for a moment before looking down at his list. He raised his eyes to hers still studying her.

''Who are you?'' It was like getting slapped in the face. The Breton's mind reeled. She had been dragged her, stripped of her possessions, left to die from hypothermia and now faced the chopping block. To find she wasn't wanted, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

''Lianna of Daggerfall.'' The Nord Imperial turned to his superior.

''Captain she's not on the list.''

A tiny fragment of hope burned in Lianna's chest, she was innocent. They could let her walk free. She was no rebel; she was no threat to the Empire.

''She goes to the block.'' The tiny fragment of hope was snuffed out in an instant. Lianna walked forward to be amongst the Stormcloaks.

...

Tullius stood before Ulfric smirking from ear to ear. Lianna could have laughed at the size difference of the two. It was like a rabbit talking to a Frost Troll.

''Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder to king to murder his king and usurp his throne.'' Wait he killed the king with his _voice_...what? Lianna thought. Ulfric grunted loudly into his gag. ''You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore peace.''

Lianna suddenly shuddered despite herself. Then came a distant roar, all eyes went to the sky. Lianna searched the sky but found only clouds.

''What was that?'' Asked an Imperial

''It's nothing. Carry on.'' Tullius responded. ''Give them their last rights.''

A priestess dressed in orange began to say prayers but she was cut short when a Stormcloak stepped forward.

''For the love of Talos, shut up and get this over with.'' The priestess's eyes hardened and her lips pursed.

''As you wish.''

The Stormcloak marched to the block, kneeled and was pushed down to rest his head on the block, by the Imperial captain's boot.

''My ancestors are smiling at my Imperials, can any of you say the same.''

The executioner swung his axe and with an easy downward sweep sliced through the Nord's neck. The disembodied head bounced into a crate. Lianna felt her stomach heave and her eyes stung. The Stormcloak's body was kicked to the side.

''Next, the Breton.'' Shouted the Imperial Captain. Lianna's innards plummeted to the balls of her feet. Again came that roar, nearer than before. A pulsing shuddered racked her spine. And again the mysterious noise was dismissed. Feeling giddy as she walked to the block, kneeling she hesitantly placed her head of the block. It was moist and warm; she faced her executioner and noted a watch tower climbing into the sky behind him.

The sky was a deep blue with a few sparse clouds...wait what is that. Lianna thought. It was something dark and was fast approaching. At first Lianna mistook it for a bird, it was flying after all. But the immense size of it was not of any bird she knew. It came closer and her mouth fell open. The executioner swung his axe high above his head.

''_Dragon!'' _Somebody screamed. The great flying lizard landed on the watch tower. It's great red eyes met Lianna's, it opened it great mouth it's teeth glittered in the sun and roared.

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><p>First off if anyone doesn't know what Mer is it's a word that means elf or elves, generally a term used by elves. But since Lianna's a Breton I think she'd use it. Secondly I apologize for using game dialogue but I couldn't really not use it and it's important dialogue but boring dialogue espically if you like me listened to it pushing on five times. Thirdly I hope you enjoyed the chapter :) I was having a blast writing it :3 Now about the next Chapter...I'll upload either tomorrow of Christmas Day, yes I'm that dedicated :) Happy Christmas and New Year!<p> 


	3. Surviving

Hello! I hope everyone had a super duper wonderful Christmas Day yesterday :3 Word of warning for the chapter Ulfric's dialogue isn't included because we don't get to appreciate the awesome wonderfulness that is Ulfric Stormcloak (or his voice :3 ) much so I decided to leave it out.

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Surviving

''Come on Breton, the Gods won't give us another chance.'' Shouted Ralof over the chaos.

The ground trembled under foot as Lianna sprinted after the Nord, she noticed his hands were no longer bound and wondered how he had freed himself. Above the once blue picturesque sky was now a swirling mass of red and black, fire was falling from the sky. Screaming from men women and children buzzed in Lianna's head as she stumbled into the keep. Panting still and slightly dazed she turned to finding Ralof speaking with Ulfric who was freed from his gag and bindings. She tried to make out words and failed. The trembling of the keep and the roaring of the Dragon drained out any other sound.

Lianna felt an arm hook under her armpit turning she saw Ralof pulling her towards the stairs of the keep, quickly unhooking herself she bounded after the two rebels. Nearing the top of the stairs she saw a Stormcloak waving them up. Suddenly there was a deep rumble of something like thunder; the keep's wall caved in front of them, there came a roar and a flash of hot red flames. As the dust cleared Lianna saw the wall that had previously stood to their right was now blocking their path, the Stormcloak who had waved them up has vanished under the rubble. Lianna felt her stomach clench. Turning away she looked out of the gaping hole left in the wall and saw a burning inn below.

''See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going.'' Ralof shouted.

Lianna sceptically noted how far away the inn was and that it was on fire, plus heights weren't her thing. She would take her chances with the Dragon.

''_Go_!We'll follow when we can!'' Commanded Ralof, Lianna sucked in a breath and dutifully jumped into the roof of the burning inn.

...

''So why did you cross the border?'' Asked Ralof turning his head over his shoulder. They were in Riverwood in Gerdur's home. Lianna was currently healing a rather nasty burn on Ralof's back; some of the Stormcloak's leather armour had apparently melted from the heat of the fire and so had gotten welded to the Nord's skin. Lianna was thankful her clothing was simply cloth.

After jumping down into the burning inn she had ran outside and had followed an Imperial Soldier. Then having found Ralof again she and the Nord had escaped into a keep. They had encountered many Imperial Soldier's all baying for their blood. She had also picked up her current attire, from a dead man's body. She had pulled on the Mage's robe and hood feeling disrespectful and also far more comfortable, a very strange concoction of feelings indeed. They had escaped out of a labyrinth of tunnels into the weak morning sunshine. They had travelled to Riverwood; Ralof had found Gerdur and told her everything over dinner. Gerdur had insisted they stay for the evening. Both had agreed, and now the two survivors sat tending to their wounds in front of the dying fire.

''To get into Skyrim.'' Lianna responded offhandedly, her brow creased as she focused her magic on a rather nasty burn. Ralof snorted.

''That's not an answer.''

''Yes it is.''

''No, you were just stating the obvious.'' Ralof smiled slightly over his shoulder at her.

''But it answered your question didn't it?'' Lianna removed her gold glowing hands and wiped the blood on a towel ''Your all done, though I wouldn't wear your armour for a while. Your skin will still be raw for a while.''

Shrugging on a simple flannel shirt Ralof turned to her.

''You didn't heal me completely then?'' Ralof asked, the burns twinging with pain when he moved a bit too quickly. Lianna was sat on chair besides the fire; she drank deeply from a tankard.

''No, a bit of pain never did anyone harm. Besides then your body will finish healing itself.''

For a long while the two sat beside the fire talking quietly, Ralof mostly supplying the conservation while Lianna only half listened as she stared into the depth of the fire, her hand absently scratching the ear of the large war dog Stump, whose head rested blissfully on her lap.

''Lianna you haven't been listening have you.'' Dazed from being brought out of her thoughts she turned to him.

''Sorry.'' She apologised softly, suddenly becoming fascinated with the dog in her lap. Ralof offered her a sympathetic smile. Rising from his chair stretched and rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly.

''It's been a long day friend, you should get some sleep.'' Lianna nodded and rose slowly carefully trying not to wake the giant sleeping dog.

...

Once Lianna made her way to the room Gerdur had offered her, she had been given the basement and had taken it without any hesitation. It was clean and despite being a storeroom, it still held the very welcoming feel that the rest of the home radiated. She pulled off her robes and then removed the rough skin tunic. She cleaned herself of the grim grit dirt and blood and healed any burns that had been left due to them being in rather private areas. She then pulled on the loose shirt and trousers Gerdur had given her and collapsed into the hay pile/bed, pulling the warm cow skin blanket over her. She lay in the darkness and stared at the ceiling. The events of that morning seemed to have happened years before not hours as Lianna lay safe in her hay bed. Had she dreamt it all? Was she actually dying of hypothermia in a forest ditch somewhere? Maybe she had never even left home and she would wake in the morning in her room and the maid would call her down for breakfast and she would live her normal uneventful life. Dragons not included.

...

Lianna woke hearing the scraping of chairs on stone above her head. She lay in the silent darkness listening to the rumbling of conversation above her. Deciding it would be impolite to pretend to sleep for any longer she rose and dressed in her robes (and hood, though she chose to keep this down)and made her ascent up the stairs to the main room. The fire burned away merrily and above it hovered a cooking pot with the day's breakfast brewing inside. Gerdur was deftly laying the table, while Ralof was regaling Frodnar and Hod with a recent campaign of an Imperial barracks. Gerdur flashed Lianna a genuine smile.

''We were starting to think you would never wake.'' Hod remarked kindly as they sat at the table.

''Leave the girl be she had _quite _an adventure after all.'' Ralof said

Breakfast was served and it was one of the best things Lianna had eaten in a very long time. Stump all the while sat with his head on her knee drooling slightly, Lianna eventually put the dog out of his misery by sneaking him a hunk of bread which he devoured heartily and noisily, alerting the family who only laughed and said Stump could make a Khajiit part with the fur on his back if he begged long enough.

When everyone was finished the table was cleared and the family went about their daily business. Which left Lianna with the predicament of not knowing what do with herself, luckily she was saved from simply floating around the house by a slightly nervous Frodnar.

''Lianna, can you show me some magic?'' He asked. Lianna's gaze met Gerdur's, permission was granted with a shake of the head and a slight smile.

Lianna presented her open hand to the boy palm to the ceiling. Frodnar watched excitement and anticipation rolling off the boy burning in his eyes and from the slight pink ting from his cheeks. Lianna made a small flame form; she let it swell and grow to a few inches high and snuffed it out by gently closing her hand. Frodnar eye's burned with wonder he thanked her. He was about to ask her to do it again when his mother interrupted him.

''Lianna I need to ask of a favour,'' Lianna was happy to do what even she could to repay Gerdur's bottomless generosity and kindness. ''Riverwood is unprotected and if that Dragon is still hiding up in the mountains...Could you speak to the Jarl in Whiterun for us.''

''Of course Gerdur.''

Gerdur gave Lianna a rather worn and used map and basic directions of how to get to the city. A with the sun on her back, a belly full with food and coin in her purse the little Breton set out for Whiterun.

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><p>UGH! This chapter was a pain to write. Of course I had fun writing as I always do :) But this chapter was just boring to write, I promise after this it gets interesting.<p> 


	4. Learning Force

**So here is the next chapter I hope you enjoy it! :)  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Learning Force.

Lianna felt a prickle of awareness as she made her way though Dragonsreach's doors, she was being watched. She hesitated and took in the great building. It was a tall room, tapestries lined the walls as well as bookshelves stuffed with old unread books. In the centre of the room was a fire pit that crackled away merrily. Lining the fire were two parallel benches both lined with silver goblet and plates. Which held a great deal of food and drink. The food strangely remained vastly untouched, though fresh. Lianna concluded the food must have been thrown out each night and replenished by the morning.

Lianna ascended the steps that led to the fire pit and the benches lined with food and felt again that uneasy prickle of eyes upon her. Trying her best to ignore it, she pressed on past the warm welcoming fire towards the back of the hall, were the Jarl -or who she believed to be the Jar- sat upon a throne talking -mostly likely about something political- with what she guessed to be his advisor.

''What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.'' Asked a voice full of suspicion. Lianna turned to face who had spoken to her, it was a Dunmer. The elf stood in a stance ready for battle, her blade drawn and eyes keen and alert. Lianna on instinct leant into her own stance of combat her eyes switched between the Dunmer's blade and slanted red eyes, read to defend herself if the Dunmer didn't believe or like her response.

''I have news from Helgen, about the Dragon attack.'' Lianna replied in a voice vacant of all warmth. The Dunmer considered her answer for a long moment, her eyes hardened and she looked the Breton over. Finally she drew he blade and relaxed her stance, though her dark hand still gripped the hilt. Lianna slowly straightened herself her eyes still upon the elf's blade, and let out a quiet breath she hadn't know she was holding. Her answer had appeared to be...adequate for the Dunmer.

''That explains why the guards let you in.'' The Dunmer replied her voice still hard with suspicion.

''Irileth let the girl forward. If she has news of Dragons, then I wish to hear it.'' Said a calm voice thick with authority. Liana without hesitation moved away from the Dunmer and stood before the Jarl. The Jarl was like any other Nord, tall and broad with light hair. The man was slouched in his throne, it created an air of boredom and nonchalance.

''So you were at Helgen.'' Balgruuf said, there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Lianna felt the tips of ears redden with annoyance. He found the idea of _her_ surviving an encounter with a Dragon trivial and entertaining.

''The Dragon destroyed Helgen and it was last seen flying towards Riverwood.'' Lianna replied keeping her voice even. Instantly the Nord's lost all hint of amusement, his eyes hardened and his brow creased, she even heard him swear quickly before he turned to his advisor.

''What do you say now Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in our walls? Against a Dragon?'' The slight bitterness in his voice betrayed the topic of which the two men had been discussing prior to Lianna's arrival.

''We should send troops to Riverwood at once. It is in the most immediate danger if the Dragon does attack.'' Irileth said quickly approaching the Jarl, thankfully breaking up a brewing argument.

''But what of the Jarl of Falkreath. He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric and attack him.'' Proventus butted in quickly.

''_Enough,'' _Balgruuf's snapped with a voice like thunder. ''I will _not _stand idly by while a Dragon burns my hold and threatens my people.'' Almost immediately the anger subsided, he turned to Irileth. '' Send a detachment of troops to Riverwood at once.''

''Yes, my Jarl.'' Irileth swiftly bowed and turned and walked with hast out of Dragonsreach.

Proventus decided it would be a good time to make himself scarce

''If you'll excuse me its time I returned to my studies.'' Proventus said his voice lined with slight unease.

''That would be best Proventus.'' Jarl Balgruuf replied in a grave voice. It all seemed strangely similar to a child being scolded by and adult, as Proventus quickly turned and vanished up a staircase.

''You have done Whiterun a great service Breton. I have task for someone of you particular talents, speak to my court wizard Farengar. He had been looking into Dragons and rumours of Dragons.'' Lianna inwardly groaned the last thing she wanted to deal with was more Dragons. Dealing with one had been enough for one lifetime thank you very much.

...

Lianna could deal with wolves. She could deal with bears. She could deal with bloodthirsty and rapehungry bandits. She could deal with 10 feet tall Spiders. The Breton could even deal with Dragons. Draugr were another subject _entirely_. Farengar had sent her to Bleak Falls Barrow to find a tablet of some sort, that may or not even be there. That blasted mage was going to become very acquainted with the toe of her boot when she got out of the goddamn Barrow. Her little adventure had been going swimmingly, she had burnt a bunch of bandits to crisps. She had then had met a _giant _Spider which met the same fate as the Bandits. She had found a hysteric Dunmer trapped in a web saying something about him knowing about the hall of stories and know how the work the claw. Lianna had no idea what he was going on about but she had obligingly cut down the elf only for him to run away saying that he wasn't going to share the claw with anyone. Following him she found his body, having stupidly been killed by a trap, she had stooped down and after searching through his pockets found the claw. Then she heard _them_.

They stood staring down at her with their unnatural eye's burning brightly in the near darkness. They had walked towards her hissing and growling their naked bones clinking as they walked. Lianna had screamed and shot the two with flames, she had no idea if it had any effect on them. They had continued to walked towards her. They had raised their weapons and just before swinging they simply broke apart. They fell to the ground as a pile of bones, whatever had possessed them had relented. Lianna had sat dumfounded for a long time staring at their remains, suddenly wishing that she didn't have to continue down through the blasted Barrow in search of a blasted tablet that might not even be there. But knowing there was no way she could back to the mage and lie to him she soldiered on through the Barrow blasting the Draugr back to Oblivion with the flames that erupted from her hands.

...

Lianna watched as a Draugr paced in front of a large glistening iron door. The tablet that may or may not actually be there, had to behind that door. After all you don't guard something without something worth protecting. Leaping out of her hiding spot, Lianna ran towards the Draugr hand blazing with fire. The Draugr's bright eyes focused upon her, it raised its axe and swiftly dove towards her. Like its kin before it fell to her fire and now she was free to enter through the glittering iron doors.

Walking swiftly through the chamber Lianna walked up a small flight of steps to what appeared to be so sort of alter. Then she heard it. At first she thought that it must have been a breeze, but that was ruled out as she was underground. The closer she came the louder the sound became, it became louder but by no means cleaner. They were voices talking in fast whispers in a language she didn't understand. What she did understand was how drawn to them she was, they beckoned her forward. Walking towards the voices she stood before a wall with writing upon it, one of the word shone brightly. She felt at peace and the calmest she had done in her life as she watched the word glow, everything around the word suddenly faded to black. The whispering intensified she watched in mild alarm as the blue light suddenly moved towards her enveloping her body and mind. She felt the warmth of the strange aura collect somewhere inside her head, it bundled into a tight little ball somewhere in her skull. Then almost as quickly as it had happened the warm aura vanished, the wall stood cold and dark.

_What...was that?_ Lianna thought staring at the now silent wall. Almost instantly the sound of sliding stone and then the crash of stone on stone was heard behind her. Turning she saw a Draugr rise from his coffin. This was no ordinary Draugr this one wore armour of old but assure quality, this was a lord not an ordinary soldier.

'' Dir Volaan!'' Rasped the Draugr, Lianna had no idea what it said but she guessed it wasn't asking to be friends as she dodged an swiftly swung axe. Raising her hands she blasted the Draugr with flames, it like its kin showed no sign of pain. Which made Lianna's job harder as she was forced to simply blast the thing with fire and hope to the Gods that it would collapse. Blasting the Draugr again she misjudged the distance between them as the Draugr swung his axe and it connected with the soft virgin unmarked flesh of her upper arm. Immediately she felt the pain, her nerves screamed as the blood soaked her robes. Gritting her teeth she quickly vaulted backwards, gasping she held her hand to her wound and let the hot magic heal the wound. The Draugr was fast and before Lianna could even repair the cells he was upon her again . She rolled quickly hearing the loud _clink!_ as the Draugr's axe connected with the stone ground. Realising she would have to let the wound be for the moment she jumped to her feet and again blasted the Draugr with flames. For a while their dance of death continued. Blast. Swing. Dodge. Blast. Swing. Dodge. Gasping Lianna again dodged the swinging axe of the Draugr, he showed no sign of pain or any slowing in his attack. In fact the only sign of him being in battle were his black burnt bones. Lianna on the other hand was gasping and beginning to reach her limit of magika and her wounded arm would reopen whenever she dodged. Lianna staggered to her feet and again blasted the damned Draugr, she felt the fire in her palms become weaker as she dived to her left to avoid the Draugr's axe. Suddenly the Draugr opened its mouth and growled something, the next thing Lianna was sent flying, her back colliding painfully with the wall. Gasping the girl staggered to her feet. Well that was new. Readying the flames she shot the Draugr with all she had, she wasn't going to last much longer. She for the first time in a long time she uttered a long forgotten half remembered prayer.

Shock widened her eyes as she heard the popping of bones dislocating and the soft thuds as the bones bounced to the floor. Crashing to her knees she breathed a deep sigh of relief and thanked the Gods. Rolling back to sit on her backside she examined the damage done to her arm. Her left arm had a deep diagonal cut that was open to the air but had thankfully stopped bleeding. Pressing her hand against the wound she felt the welcoming relief of the hot magic seeping into her broken flesh. She would be left with a large scar, her first. She felt slightly proud as she staggered to her feet and search the remains of the Draugr. There amongst the bones and dust she found the tablet.

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><p>Dir Volaan means die quickly. If anyone cares. This was my first ever action scene I hope its good :) This is offically my biggest chapter yet :D yay! Reviews are welcome as they keep me motivated. Have a good one guys!<p> 


	5. Killing a Dovah

Last update **ever** of 2011 :') I hope everyone liked the last chapter, no one reviewed so I don't know :I Hope every has a wonderful New Years :D

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

Killing a Dovah

Making her way to Farengar's study Lianna found that Dragonsreach was surprisingly empty except for a few guards who seemed flustered for some reason. On arriving at his study she was blocked from entering by a women dressed in dark armour with a hood to hide her face. The women was leaning against the door frame her head turned swiftly to the Breton as she drew nearer.

''You're Farengar's protégé aren't you.'' The women said in a voice that sounded far older than Lianna had expected.

''Yeah I am.'' Lianna responded her brow creased as she tried to side step the women, but was stopped by an extending arm. The hooded women pushed herself off of the doorframe and stood in front of Lianna.

''You're alive it seems,'' There was a mild amusement in her voice which made Lianna prickle slightly. ''This means you have the tablet then?''

''Yeah I do.'' Lianna responded in a voice that betrayed some of her annoyance.

''Better give it here then.'' Lianna brought out the stone tablet and handed it to the women who took it without a word. The women looked it over a few times before tucking it under her arm, her eyes met Lianna's for a moment. ''You better go upstairs, Whiterun could use someone with your skills.'' On that note the women turned and walked towards the large oak doors that led outside. Lianna's brow furrowed.

''Why? What's happened?'' Lianna called after her. The hooded women stopped in her tracks for a moment and half turned towards the Breton.

''Didn't you notice anything on your way here.'' She responded surprised, ''A dragon has been sighted outside Whiterun.''

...

_''Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon?'' The elf's words were met with a large roar of enthusiasm and exhilaration._

Irileth's words had lifted their spirits and rallied the men as they had made their way to the western watch tower. But now as the little brigade of soldiers stood on a natural rise looking down at the devastated watch tower, they felt their spirits and courage plummet as they all realised the true size and power of the beast they were supposed to kill. Lianna felt her hands quivering as she searched through the rubble for survivors. She had lived through a dragon attack only because she had been running _away_ from it, not_ towards_ it trying to kill it.

''_No!_ Get back,'' Shouted a frantic voice ''he's still around here somewhere.'' Lianna looked up to see a guard crouching against the wall of what remained of the tower. Then as if on cue there came a deep bloodcurdling roar from above. ''Kynareth save us here he comes again.'' The guard breathed.

Lianna watched shaking as the dragon circled far overhead, there came the whistle of arrows. Lianna watched them, many fell short of their lofty target and those that hit simply bounced off of the beast's scales. Lianna hissed through gritted teeth, the dragon had to be grounded for them to be able to get a solid hit on him. But for that he had to weakened, there was no way anyone was going to him from the ground. Lianna's eyes roamed the landscape for some sort of leverage, the Watchtower, of course. Keeping low to the ground Lianna spirited forward, her hide boots slapping the turf under her feet. She heard the dragon roar and felt heat hit the back of her legs and head. Diving into the Watchtower and without any hesitation she flew up the spiral staircase as fast as her legs pumping with adrenaline could carry her.

From her vantage point Lianna watched as the guards continuously fired arrows at the dragon. The dragon opened its mouth, a large spool of flames exploded forward scattering the guards. The dragon circled around flying right over Lianna's undetected quivering form, Lianna thanked the Gods she had a strong bladder. Gasping Lianna stood watching as the dragon flew over head causing a strong updraft of air to pull at her hair and nearly pulled her off of the stone floor beneath her. Readying her hands she felt the sparks of the blue electricity buzz in her hands, leaning over the stone wall she raised her hands and fired.

...

The guards roared and cheered as the dragon fell from the sky. Lianna watched the dragon's fall quickly, its wing's still open in an attempt to fly. Lianna felt a deep icy chill grip her spine as she watched the dragon fall faster and faster getting nearer and nearer. _''Fuck it's going to hit the tower,'' _Lianna's mind screamed. The dragon roared before colliding into the tower, the roar filled with agony as the wall crumbled away. Lianna screamed as she was thrown off the side of the wall, she fell through the sky fully expecting to hit the ground and die. What she didn't expect was to land against the hard leather scaled neck of the dragon. The scales slashed her skin but still she clung on as she and the dragon fell to the ground. The dragon hit dirt with such a great force that Lianna was sent flying into the air again before landing hard on sweet _sweet_ earth a number of paces away from the beast.

Pushing herself to her feet she watched dazed as the guards rushed the downed beast. Covered in scrapes, cuts, bruises and burns the guards roared in triumph as the dragon fell still, dead. Their cheers and celebration could have reached Sovngarde, their jubilation was cut short with a fearful exclamation.

''It's burning!'' All eyes turned to the dead dragon and indeed it's body was inflame, they retreated and watched. The dragon's flesh was burning off into tiny ciders which caught the wind and rose into the clouds revealing a clean skeleton of the beast. Lianna suddenly heard the same whispers from Bleak Falls Barrow the voices were louder they buzzed in her ears and drowned out everything else, there was that same ghostly light coming off of the dragon, it enveloped her. It burnit her lungs and her eyes. Something deep in her skull burst open with a cold chill. The heat and chill intertwined inside her chest and reached into every fibre of her being before, much like back at the Barrow, immediately vanished leaving her stunned and dizzy.

The world slowly brightened and Lianna found herself on her back staring at the cloudy blue sky, she was pulled to her feet by many hands. Once on her feet Lianna found each face staring at her each with a similar look of bemusement.

''She absorbed it.'' Gasped a voice

''You're Dragonborn.''

''What are you talking about, that's just a myth.'' Shouted another

''Well you explain what just happened.'' Someone shouted back.

Lianna had no idea what they were going on about. What was Dragonborn? And why was she one? Really, _her _of all people, a runaway Breton. The Gods certainly had a sense of humour that was sure.

''Shout, they say a Dragonborn can Shout without training.'' Badgered a guard.

''I think it would be best if you all stopped flapping your gums about something you know nothing about.'' Irileth cut in.

''Well Irileth? What do you think about this?''

Irileth crossed her arms ''All I know is here we have a dead dragon, that's enough for me.''

''You wouldn't understand, you ain't a Nord.'' Shouted a guard.

Lianna groaned rubbing her temples. She opened her mouth to tell to shut their mouths and something entirely different happened. Her stomach clenched and a word passed her lips that she didn't recognize.

''FUS!'' Immediately the arguing soldiers were thrown back, they staggered and stared at her.

''I told you. She's Dragonborn alright.''

...

''I'm telling you the crown is in Korvanjund.'' Galmar pressed his index finger against the map. Jorleif snorted from the other end of the war room, Galmar turned to the shorter man ''You got something to say?''

''Even if the crown is there,'' He was cut off by Ulfric opening his mouth to disagree. ''or if it isn't, what good would this crown exactly do Galmar?''

''It would legitimise Ulfric's claim to the throne.'' Galmar responded.

''Yes, but a crown doesn't make a king.'' Ulfric said calmly. ''Take the men to Korvanjund if you wish, but you owe me a drink if you come back empty handed.''

Galmar laughed deeply ''Alright, but if we bring back the crown you owe a drink to all of our men.'' The Jarl's eyes twinkled with slight amusement.

''Now back to business, the Imperials-'' Ulfric was cut off by a loud deep rumble of what sounded like thunder

''_Dovahkiin__.''_ Rumbled the strange voice.

''What was that?'' Growled Galmar his eye's turned to Ulfric.

''The Greybeards.'' Ulfric breathed, surprise etched into his face.

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><p><strong>LE GASP! <strong>What is that Ulfric? He's still in this story? Sorry we haven't seen him in a while, but we will see a lot much more of him in future I promise. Please review as it keeps me motivated! **HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY :D**


	6. The Drunken Dolphin

****I wanted to make this chapter before I got back to college tomorrow. This unfortunatly means that this fic will be only updated once a week, just a heads up. I hope you enjoy it :)

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

The Drunken Dolphin

_''I believe a celebration is in order.''_

Upon arriving back at Dragonsreach their faces covered in ash dirt and blood the little brigade of soldiers announced the news that the dragon was dead. Irileth had pushed a bewildered and embarrassed Lianna forward and presented her as Dragonborn. The Jarl had looked down at her with a new emotion in his eyes before he had stood and had proclaimed to all within hearing distance that a celebration was in order. And so a celebration was planned.

In the days that followed Whiterun was completely transformed. Streamers and bunting were hung between the houses nearly blocking out the sun in their abundance. The streets were lined with tables and chairs that started in Dragonsreach's main hall and flowed all the way down to the main gate. Food and drink was brought in by huge carts led by multiple horses. The Honningbrew Meadery nearly emptied their cellars with the amount of mead that was requested. People from all over the hold arrived in huge numbers. Shocking everyone thought was the number of the people that arrived that were not from the hold, people from all over Skyrim flocked to Whiterun. They would arrive in huge decorated convoys. Some even came as far away as Riften and Winterhold.

On the night of the party the streets heaved with people both seated and standing eating and drinking loudly and merrily, music was played in the main squares which were left absent of tables so the partiers could dance the night away. It came close to the twelfth hour and everyone waited for the main event to being.

''You ready lass?'' Asked the guard his eyes twinkled with anticipation . The small brigade stood before the main gate waiting for it to be opened. Besides them sat the huge dragon skull from the dragon that had cut down only days previous. Lianna responded with a nod as excited as she was to join the party she didn't want to be known as the Dragonborn, partly because rumours had spread quickly saying that the Dragonborn was a great sword wielding Nord who could shout mountains to rubble she would hate to see the people's reaction to when_ she_ was announced the Dragonborn. And secondly was that she far more liked the idea of the Dragonborn being a nameless living legend rather than a named and known hero, it took way from the legend and wonder of what or who the Dragonborn was. But mostly she didn't really want all the attention focused on her, the brave men that stood alongside her deserved all of the attention, she had unwillingly been thrown into the battle, they would have willingly lain down their lives. She was no hero. Lianna shifted impatiently in her robes, they were give to her to wear. They were golden and red and bore the Whiterun Ram upon her shoulder her robes were identical with the others, and like the others she wore a circlet on her brow it's red jewels glimmered in the sun. Abruptly the came the groaning of gears and the distant roar of a cheering crowd, the gate was being opened.

...

A cloaked figure stood amongst the crowd unnoticed and undetected. She watched the procession her eyes homed on the Breton that carried the dragon's skull along with the others that had fought the dragon. She was smiling and laughing along with the cheering roar of the crowd, completely immersed in the moment. Had the cloaked women's hood have been removed her fair gold tinted skin would have betrayed her heritage. Her golden blond hair would have spooled over her shoulder, covering her slightly pointed ears, and her brightly blue eyes would have shone. There was a reason she was covered up, she was a dark dirty secret. The product of a secret and deeply shameful liaison erased from all records. The hooded women watched the Breton the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, the little Breton could prove more useful than already thought. And like a shadow, a whisper, the hooded women vanished into the crowd.

...

Lianna and the other soldiers had carried the_ very_ heavy skull all the way up Dragonsreach, all gasping their faces red but grinning ear to ear from the raw exhilaration of the crowd. The jarl had met them with open arms at the doors he had embraced them each and called them heroes the crowd had positively exploded when they were presented. The dragon skull had been hung above the doors its mouth agape and its absent eyes staring down into the crowd. The little band of heroes had walked down the steps to be embraced by the crowd and pulled to seats. Lianna now sat besides an Altmer women named Arrille from the Imperial city and to her right was a Breton man who had introduced himself as Sam Guevenne who had instantly asked her to join a drinking contest Lianna had declined she had never had a love for drink. A Nord to the right of Sam had quickly accepted the challenge, and now the two men sat swaying in their seats and slurring the words of the song the bard was playing.

_'' __Our ear-o, Ar ear-o, claims a warrior's fart.''_

''Typical men,'' Snorted Arrille ''any chance to get drunk they'll take.'' Arrille took a small sip of her mead.

''My father was worse.'' Lianna responded ''He drank like a horse.'' Arrille smiled slightly

_''I tell ewe, I tell oou, the Drabontorn_ _comes.''_

''I know the feeling, my brother would drink himself stupid nearly every night.'' Arrille said coldly ''He would drink away all our money, bastard.'' She muttered before taking another deep sip of her wine.

''I propose a toast.'' Lianna announced Arrille gave her a skeptical look. ''To the stupidity of men.'' Lianna offered her tankard to the elf.

_''With a Voice-welding flower of the Ancient door farts.''_

''I'll drink to that.'' The elf laughed, the two clinked there tankards and drank deeply.

_''_ _Belieb, Belieb, err Tagonvorn comes.''_

...

_Delphinia Magusson stared at herself in the mirror, she didn't recognise herself. The veil draped in front of her face made her look ghostly through the gossamer fabric, her __kohl lined eyes glaring back at her filled with fear and melancholy. Her red painted lips were set in a thin line of worry. The white dress was too full and didn't fit her shape the shoulders were ruffled which restricted her movement. The dress was far too cumbersome and annoying. She hated it. _

_''So does the dress fit my lady?'' Yes, the dress was tailored made it was correct in measurement in everyone way. But it didn't fit. _

_''Its fine, thank you.'' Delphinia responded in a far colder voice than she would have liked. _

_The maid curtseyed ''I'll leave you to admire herself my lady. Just call if you wish for assistance.'' The maid turned and left through the large tall oak doors. _

_Delphinia rose from the vanity with hast and with difficulty made her way her bed and reached for the locked box that was hidden underneath it. Sitting down on her bed she pulled off her veil and breathed for a moment. Her wedding was in a week, she had been stupid to leave it this late. Opening the box with the key that hung around her neck, she emptied out its content. A map, a note and a small coin purse. For the umpteenth time she looked over the map and read the note again. She whipped away a tear should would not disappoint her mother. Soon she promised herself. Very soon. She would have to get this right. _

...

''Oi get up.'' Lianna heard a sharp voice that sounded like thunder. Her head was _killing _her. Opening her eyes the light stabbed and through into the back of her skull. It felt like a giant was tangoing on her head. Lianna felt the tip of a boot prod at her ribs.

''Oi .'' Lianna managed to looked up at the stern face of Hulda. Lifting herself up she found herself in a bed.

''Where am I?''

''You're in the Bannered Mare. You stumbled in her last night and asked for a room.'' Lianna rubbed her face sleepily, she remembered nothing of the night previous after meeting an elf with a name that escaped her and some guy called Sam. She suddenly noted the brightness of the light that flittered through the one window.

''What time is it.'' Lianna grumbled pulling herself to her feet.

''It's just gone the eleventh hour. The Jarl asked for an audience with you.'' Lianna groaned her pulsating head ach and her churning stomach was making her feel like Skeever droppings. She was _never _going to drink again.

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><p>I wanted to write this chapter because ingame you kill the second dragon seen in centuries and the first to be killed in centuires and no really gives a damn. I mean these people could have died and they don't give a toss. True Nords i guess.. : Oh and the mysterious cloaked figure watch out for her, she is a rather important part to the story, as shes the catalyst to this story. Please review as it keeps me motivated :) I hope everyone has a wonderful week!


	7. High Hrothgar Express

**Observant readers would have noticed that this chapter was taken down halfway through this week and your probably asking why. Well I'll tell you, I wasn't happy with the chapter, I wrote it in a rush and ugh I decided I didn't like it. So I rewrote tweaked and uploaded again! Don't worry this doesn't count as your chapter this week, chapter 8 should be up sometime tomorrow.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

High Hrothgar Express

Lianna's mind was still swirling as she stood before Jarl Balgruuf the Nord was amused greatly by the young women's hangover, something that Nord's apparently were impervious to. Her throbbing head and churning stomach weren't helped by his deep voice punching his way through her throbbing sense and making her head ach even more. Damn mead, she was never going to drink again. Ever.

''Dragonborn.'' Lianna jumped slightly out of shock and pain as the Jarl's monotone speech had stopped only for him to suddenly address her in a voice a little too loud to be considered polite. Oh he was enjoying this far too much. ''Have you even been listening to anything I've said?'' Balgruuf asked smirking. Oh he was _enjoying_ this.

Lianna glared back up at him through blood-shot eyes ''You were saying something about the Greybeards.''

Balgruuf lip's twitched with amusement ''Lucky guess Dragonborn. I'll start again, do you remember after the dragon was killed, do you remember hearing a strange voice suddenly? Possibly sounding like thunder?''

Lianna thought back to when the dragon had been killed. She remembered the men calling her dragon born, and then shouting at them. Then upon arriving back at Whiterun with the other guards they had all heard the strange voice that had shook the sky and sounded like thunder despite the sky being cloudless.

Lianna nodded ''Yeah.''

''Good. That was the summons of the Greybeards, they were summoning you Dragonborn.''

Lianna's eyes widened. ''Me? Why do they want me?''

Balgruuf rolled his eyes ''Because you are the Dragonborn...''

''-Lianna.'' The young women deadpanned. It annoyed her that he had not asked for her name sooner especially in light as what had happened.

Balgruuf nodded a slight wrinkle to his brow; it appeared that though he might not ask for one's name off the bat, he seemed to be the type who would take great care in remembering it. Lianna immediately felt herself like him a bit more, he was a good man. Even if he enjoyed her hungover state too much.

''What exactly is Dragonborn?'' Lianna asked suddenly, the title that everyone had appointed her with had never actually been explained to the appointee.

Balgruuf's eyebrows rose a good foot into the air. ''_You don't know_?'' Lianna shook her head swiftly, she was thankful he didn't laugh at her, or he didn't show it anyway. ''The Dragonborn is the ultimate dragon hunter, by absorbing the beast's soul they are then able to transfer that power into a shout or Thu'um. But I digress, the Greybeards summon you to High Hrothgar, to the Throat of the World.''

''The Greybeards?'' Lianna asked her voice unsure.

Balgruuf sighed ''Yes, the Greybeards the masters of the way of the voice that live at the top of the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel. They summon you to High Hrothgar.''

''High what?'' Balgruuf raised his hand to his face and groaned something that sounded very much like Stupid Breton.

...

Ulfric stood leaning against the desk reading the map once over. He was interrupted by the door of the war room being opened, in walked Galmar, in each hand a tankard sloshing with their warm spiced contents. He handed his old friend one before sinking into a chair. Ulfric took a deep draft of the warm liquid and closed his eyes for a moment savoring the sweet taste of the spiced wine.

''Have you heard about the dragon that attacked Whiterun?''

Ulfric sat himself down into a chair opposite his friend; he sipped his drink ''Hasn't everyone?'' It seemed that the whole of Tamriel knew, it was no guarded secret.

''People are saying that the Dragonborn appeared. I don't believe it, people come up with too many tales.''

Ulfric considered this for a moment ''The Greybeards wouldn't summon a tale.''

''So you believe it then.'' Galmar grumbled, as far as he was concerned the Dragonborn didn't exist the same as ghosts and werewolves. The fact that his Jarl and friend believed in it annoyed him.

''Dragons have come back; they were believed to be myth. It would only make sense that the Dragonborn also appears.'' Ulfric replied calmly.

''If there truly is a Dragonborn then maybe we should make our move. Just think, if we had the Dragonborn within out ranks this war would be over before Titus Mede can take his head out of the Thalmor's ass .''

Ulfric's lip twitched with humor, Galmar was right. If they were to recruit the Dragonborn within their ranks, not only would they have gained an invaluable soldier and fighter. But also the title of Dragonborn to be associated with the Stormcloaks would surely gain them monumental support across Skyrim.

''You're right Galmar. And since you're already searching for one old wives tale maybe you could track down another.''

''I've already told you the Jagged Crown exists and it's in Korvanjund,'' Galmar insisted

Ulfric ignored this and continued ''I want you to find the Dragonborn and bring him to me.''

…

''Welcome Dragonborn. My name is Arngeir, we have been expecting you.'' Called a voice as Lianna opened the doors to High Hrothgar. She found with disappointment that it was no warm inside to outside, though at least there wasn't a bone-chilling wind. Lianna came face to face with who she presumed to be the man who had addressed her.

Arngeir was dressed in a long black robe; his pale skin in striking contrast made him all most ghost like, his milky blue eyes didn't help the ghostly image. The young women's eyes took in the beautiful hall that seemed out of another world and nearly jumped as more robbed figures immerged seemingly from the walls themselves, their milky eyes watching her intently.

''Why did you summon me?'' Lianna asked

''We summoned you so we could guide you, as we have always done with those of the Dragon Blood.''

''So you'll train me to Shout?''

''First we must see your Thu'um, then we shall teach you.'' Arngeir turned without another word and walked back through the hall from another world Lianna followed dutifully.

The young Dragonborn was led back out into the cold to watch appeared to a courtyard of some kind. The Greybeards arranged themselves in a circle, Arngeir turned to her.

''Demonstrate your shout to us Dragonborn.'' He said his voice barely above a whisper.

In the centre of the circle appeared a ghostly figure that appeared to be made of vapor. Lianna stood for a moment and realized she had never actually shouted on command only on accident. Hoping for the best, Lianna focused on the target and opened her mouth, she felt her body become still like never before, her breathing slowed and her shoulders dropped, she widened her stance and breathed in

''**FUS!**'' The Shout moved as a solid wall punching through the snow leaving the air empty before colliding with its target. The vapor figure dispersed in large curls before being carried away by the frigid wind.

''Very good Dragonborn. Your training will begin immediately.''


	8. Watching and Waiting

Yay next chapter :D I apologize in advance that it's short and late, I've been busy revising for exams :S

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

Watching and Waiting

For the umpteenth time Lianna wondered how the Greybeards lived in High Hrothgar so comfortably. As she pulled off her sleeping ware, her bare back prickled as the cold draft embraced her back. The place was so damn quiet and lonely, despite being filled with men. Lianna tried to push away the thought that she was the only women they had probably seen in a very long time, as she pulled on her robes; as per usual she left her hood down. As she left the room she had been designated, she made her way into the main hall. It couldn't have been called a bedroom as it was far from any kind of room Lianna had ever slept in. The room like all the others in High Hrothgar, had a high ceiling that seemed to stretch on forever, with gaps in the wall near the ceiling that she guessed were supposed to be windows, minus the glass. Which made for a beautiful light show when the sun set or rose, but also unfortunately made for a very cold night's sleep. All in all it being her third day at High Hrothgar Lianna was beginning to miss a good old seedy inn with its constant warmth, bards singing and drunken brawls.

The Greybeards had been surprised at how fast it took her to learn a shout. After seeing her demonstration of the shout they had, true to their word, immediately began to teach the young Dragonborn the second word RO. They had been shocked at how quickly she had mastered the word; within minutes of learning it she had been able to use it with such ease like it was second nature.

''_Your rate of learning is astounding Dragonborn.'' _

''_I guess not everyone learns as quickly as me.'' Lianna sheepishly smiled._

_Arngeir's lips had twitched into a smile for a second ''Correct Dragonborn, anyone can learn to Shout, but it takes months and years to be able to control and master the Way of the Voice.''_

_Lianna had been surprised; she had thought that only the Dragonborn could learn to Shout. ''There are others who know how to Shout?'' _

''_There is one other yes, who was under our tutelage.'' Arngeir's eyes had hardened slightly_

_Lianna's curiosity had spiked ''Who is it?'' _

_Arngeir's lips again twitched slightly, but not into a smile. ''It is not my place to say Dragonborn.''_

_Lianna though disappointed, knew she had touched upon a subject that was a little raw and decided not to press any further. _

Her second day had been spent learning Whirlwind Sprint. A shout that enabled her to move at an eye-watering speed. Just like the previous Shout she had learned she had Whirlwind Sprint down pat in minutes. Now her third day Lianna wondered what Shout she was going to be taught as Arngeir made his way towards her.

''I am afraid Dragonborn that there will be no lesson today. Instead we wish for you to retrieve an item for us.''

Lianna felt her shoulder's dropped in disappointment as cold and lonely High Hrothgar was she greatly enjoying learning new Shouts.

''What is it?''

''The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder. Collect it from his tomb in the ancient tomb of Ustengrav, and bring it back here.''

Lianna inwardly groaned. Tomb crawling was not her favourite activity, mainly because it involved Draugr. Damned Draugr.

''I'll leave at once.''

''Stay true to the voice and you will return.'' Arngeir said.

...

Gaila was led above the entrance to Ustengrav, her body a shadow against the dark cold rock. She had watched the Blades woman enter and after some time leave; the hooded woman had looked around before entering, she was right to be nervous. After all there are eyes everywhere, pity the women hadn't looked up. Gaila sighed, waiting around was _boring._ But unfortunately a vital part of her job, she was waiting for the Dragonborn to come, then she would be led to the Blade women Delphine and then _finally_ things could get interesting. Gaila was lucky she didn't have to wait long, a few hours before the sun was to rise a robed figure made their way to Ustengrav entrance. Gaila smiled, the Breton had come without fail.

Hours passed and Gaila found her patience was nearly at breaking point. Tullius was going to get an earful when she got back to Solitude. She straightened herself and tucked back the strands of golden blond hair that had escaped her hood. Luckily Gaila was saved from waiting around any longer by the found of quick footsteps on stone. Looking up Gaila watched as the Dragonborn walked swiftly away from Ustengrav purpose and anger quickening her steps. Gaila smirked and jumped down soundlessly from her hiding place and followed the Dragonborn silent as a shadow.

...

''We don't have an attic room. You can have a regular one.'' Responded the blond woman.

Lianna groaned inwardly, she had traipsed around Ustengrav for hours only to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller missing and in its place a note. That had told her to go to the inn in Riverwood and ask for the attic room, only there wasn't an attic room. Lianna had the feeling someone was messing with her, they picked the wrong person to mess with. Delphine led the Breton to one of the rooms and stood in the doorway watching. So _this _was the Dragonborn.

Lianna felt the woman's eyes on her back as they stood in that poky room for what seemed like an eternity. Lianna turned around to see the Nord watching her intently, accessing her.

''So you're the Dragonborn I've heard so much about.'' The Nord's voice was careful and quiet. ''I think-'' Delphine reached into her pocket, Lianna jumped, her hands ready to burn the women if a blade was produced. ''you're looking for this.'' Delphine produced a horn from her pocket her eyebrows raised at the Breton's ready crouch and at the fire that burned in her hands. ''Calm down I mean you no harm.'' Lianna lowered her hands in doing so snuffing out the flames. Delphine regarded the women again, she wasn't stupid even if a little uninspiring. ''If your done getting excited, we need to talk. Follow me.'' Without so much as a backwards glance Delphine turned out of the doorway of the little room. Lianna followed the Nord; they stopped in what appeared to be a large storeroom.

Standing in front of a large wardrobe, Delphine opened the doors revealing nothing, empty. The woman pressed her hand to the back. Lianna watched amazed as the wardrobe's back slid down into floor revealing a staircase.

''After you Dragonborn.''


	9. Collect Your Courage

****So here it is ladies and gentlemen Chapter 9! Thank You for all the wonderful reviews, they really do make my day :)

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Collect Your Courage

''The Greybeards seem to think you are the Dragonborn. I hope they're right.''

Lianna shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, her eyes took in the little hidden room. The room was surprisingly well lit; around the room were an assortment of vital travailing things. Vials of different colors and of many different affects sat upon a shelf, weapons hung upon the wall occasionally catching the light, they gleamed. Armour was lent against the wall, along with several chests. The staircase that led back out to the main floor of the inn was directly behind her. Lianna made sure of this just in case things took a turn for the more fatal, she would at least have an exit.

''What's with all the cloak and dagger?''

''I need to make sure you can be...trusted. Like I said in my note I heard you might be Dragonborn.''

''Why go to such an expense for only a possibility?''

''I needed to make sure you weren't a Thalmor trap.''

''Why should I trust you?''

''You were a fool to follow me in here if you didn't trust me. '' Delphine said simply. There was a heavy underline of suspicion.

''Who are you Delphine?''

''I guess my Inn Keeper act is not as good as I think it is.''

''You hold yourself like a warrior.''

Delphine smiled slightly, the Breton wasn't as hopeless as she appeared.

''I'm part of group that has been looking for someone like you for a very long time.''

''_Like_ me?''

''The Dragonborn. Before I can tell you anymore, I need to make sure you can be trusted.''

''Why are you looking for me, the Dragonborn?''

''The Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one who can kill a dragon permanently, by devouring its soul.''

''Permanently? Do you mean when they die it's only temporary.''

Delphine nodded ''Something like that. Can you absorb a dragon's soul?''

Lianna thought back to when she had absorbed the hot light that had flown towards her. How it had warmed every inch of her being and how the tight ball of pressure in her skull had exploded, cold mingling with the heat.

''Something like that.''

''I'll see for myself soon enough.''

Lianna's eyes narrowed at this, she didn't like the thought of taking on another dragon.

''So what's the bit you're not telling me Delphine?''

''You're right about dragon's deaths being only temporary, well partly. Dragons haven't just been somewhere all this time; they're coming back to life. Something is happening to bring them back, and I need you to help me to stop it.''

''Do you know how crazy you sound right now?''

Delphine's brow crumpled with annoyance ''I know they are. I've gone to their burial grounds and found them empty. I've figured out where the next one is, we're going there.''

''Let me guess, I've got to kill the dragon?''

''If you do then I'll tell you whatever you want to know.''

''So where are we going?''

''Kynesgrove. There's an ancient dragon burial mound near there. If we can get there before it happens, maybe we can stop it.''

''How long do we have?''

''Two weeks. Why?''

''You forget I still have the horn to return.''

''Of course, deliver the horn then meet me in Kynesgrove.''

''Understood.''

...

High Hrothgar hadn't changed in her absence Lianna noted. Though it probably hadn't changed in decades, maybe centuries. Time seemed to not control the mountain or its ageless milky eyed habitants. Lianna handed the horn to Arngeir who took it with much care.

''Well done Dragonborn,'' Arngeir breathed ''We shall teach you the final word of Unrelenting Force. Dah push.''

Lianna bit her bottom lip ''Arngeir, can I ask you a question?''

''Of course Dragonborn.''

Lianna prepared herself for the man's response, she had already guessed his reaction.

''Tell me about the other person who was under your tutelage.'' His reaction surprised her, it was blank if not for a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

''I suppose it is only natural, you wish to know of the other that you share the Voice with. But he turned away from the path of the Voice.''

''Turned away?''

Arngeir's was quick with rage ''Yes, he used the power of the Voice to acquire power. But worse still...''

Arngeir stopped as if unable to continue, his eyes burned with betrayal and rage.

''What? What did he do Arngeir?'' Lianna pressed her voice soft, trying in vain to calm the man.

''He used the Voice to enable him to kill another.'' Arngeir's eyes closed and his mouth became a tight line. He appeared to be reliving a moment from the past. ''I think it would be best if you retired for now Dragonborn your tutelage shall continue tomorrow.''

Lianna watched as the man turned away from her and vanished down one of the many corridors. She wished she could have said something to console the man but the words simply tripped over her tongue and died on her lips. She decided to take Arngeir's advice and retire for the night.

...

Lianna rolled over again unable to find a comfortable position in the bed. The freezing draft wasn't helping. She stared at the ceiling the events of the last few days rolled around loudly in her head.

_''He used the Voice to enable him to kill another.'' _

_''...a hero doesn't use the power of the Voice to murder his king and usurp the throne.''_

_A man sat beside her, bound and gagged as the cart rumbled through the trees_

Lianna's jaw fell open in the darkness. Of course. It had been staring at her all along. Ulfric Stormcloak could Shout. Lianna lay awake knowing she would not sleep that night. She wondered how long it had taken him to Shout, months? Years? She wondered how well he controlled the Voice, sure she learnt quickly but her execution of the Shouts left a lot to desired, especially comparing with the Greybeards. No wonder the Imperials saw the Stormcloaks as a serious threat. No wonder they had gagged him, they feared his ability and the chaos it could cause. Lianna lay in the darkness staring at the far off ceiling imaging Ulfric Shouting Torygg into submission and then plunging a sword into his chest. It scared her how easy it was to envisage Ulfric killing someone. She shuddered and she rolled over pulling the quilt over her head.

…

The next few days were spent learning Dah and combining all three words into a Shout. Something that was easier said than done for Lianna, so she most of her time Shout at the air, trying to say all three words before the Shout actually escaped her mouth, so far she had only been able to get up to been able to get to Roh, once.

''FUS R-'' Lianna groaned as the Shout escaped her lips before the final words were said. Arngeir stood watching her slow progress. Joining the three words into a powerful Shout was always the hardest part of forming a Shout. Even the Dragonborn was having trouble, but he knew that whereas with normal people would spend months trying to form the three words, the Dragonborn would have it mastered by sun down.

Of course the old man was correct in his assumption. By the evening she had mastered the Shout, much to the Dragonborn's glee. By the time the sun had set the Breton had packed her belongs and had set off down the mountain off the Kynesgrove to the burial mound to kill a dragon. Lianna's journey to Kynesgrove was a long one. Three days travailing through the wilderness and sleeping under the stars, using her newly mastered Shout on anyone or anything that attacked her.

When she finally arrived at Kynesgrove, it was small. Tiny. Just a mine a farm and an inn.

Gods help them if a dragon attacked whilst we weren't here. Lianna thought as she walked through the little settlement towards the inn where she was to meet Delphine.

Delphine was stood against the wall of the inn dressed in leather armour she walked towards the mage as she approached.

''Come on Dragonborn. We must hurry, I fear that we're already late.''

Lianna was about to open her mouth but was interrupted by the loud sound of wings flapping and the _whoosh_ as a large black scaled body flew over them and over the town higher up to the top of the mountain.

Delphine's eyes were set hard and her hand held her unsheathed sword.

''We've got to hurry.''

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><p>So Lianna finds out Ulfric can Shout. And Alduin's back. Warning shit is gonna go down next chapter. Until next week! :3<p> 


	10. Trouble is a Friend

**SURPRISE! :D MID WEEK UPDATE. CAUSE YOU ALL DESERVE IT! and to partly celebrate the end of my exams (wooh!) Im so flattered that you guys are getting inspired out of this story and are so nice. Seriously you guys are awesome! WARNING SHIT GETS REAL! **(finally)**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Trouble is a Friend

Adrenaline pumped through her legs as Lianna ran up the side of the mountain, Delphine paces ahead. The black dragon they were following had flown up the mountain and now was hovering in the air above the burial mound. The pair hid behind a rock. Their hearts pumping their eyes wide. Every fibre in both their bodies telling them to get out of there _now_. The air was thick with electricity, Lianna heard Delphine swear under breath as the black dragon began to speak. The air became palpable with a strange energy; Lianna could hear her pounding heart in her skull, if there was a more dangerous place in Tamriel Lianna would have loved to be there.

Both women watched mouths gaping as a great dragon crawled out from the ground. But it was just bone. Pearly white, clean and shining in the weak sunlight. The black dragon was speaking to its skeletal kin, in an ancient voice that seemed to echo through the trees, as it did so the crawling dragon began to glow blue white and red. The light enveloped the newly born dragon turning it to a blinding bright white light. Lianna watched through partially closed eyes as the light gradually dimmed and melted away leaving a glistening set of green scales. The newborn dragon raised its newly scaled head and roared with triumph. Lianna felt her innards dissolve into a pile of mush. This was bad. _Very bad_. The black dragon turned to the two hiding women its huge red eyes rolled over them before speaking in a voice that sounded far too human.

''It seems we have an audience, Sahloknir'' Lianna saw the black dragon's nostrils flare and his eyes narrowed. ''Such a pitiful mortal...how have you killed Mirmulnir is a mystery.'' Lianna felt something ancient stir in her heart at the dragon's condescending words. She felt the heat and chill leak into her chest and snake its way throughout her whole body. Her eyes flashed with gold and a quiet snarl passed her lips. The black dragon's eyes flickered with something close to laughter.

''The Dovah stirs in you mortal.'' His red eyes narrowed with disgust.

''Alduin.'' Snarled the green dragon. It lowered its head in assign of respect; it appeared to be kneeling almost. ''It has been long since I have tasted flesh.'' He breathed into the ground, his voice no louder than a whisper, for a dragon anyway.

Alduin looked down at Sahloknir ''Well then, eat. Feast, my child.'' The black dragon beat the air with his wings and rose into the air; he flew with ease and grace and landed on the side of the mountain. He watched them with anticipation. A spectator waiting for the deadly game to begin.

_Let's see what you're made of Dovahkiin. Can you take down my champion?_

''Fight me Dovahkiin. I wish to feast on you flesh.'' Sahloknir almost sang as he rose into the sky above the two cowering women. Swallowing bile Lianna looked across to Delphine they wore the same expression of raw fear and shock. Sahloknir watched the two from his position above them drinking in their smell.

''Well Dovahkiin. Time to kill a dragon.'' Delphine hissed in a low whisper as she pushed the Breton to her feet. She stepped out from behind the rock and stood before Sahloknir, her throat was tight and burning. She took one unsure glance back to where Delphine was hiding her eyes wild with fear, begging for aid that wouldn't come. No. Lianna swallowed her fear. This fight was between her and Sahloknir. Nobody else. This was her fight. She turned back to Sahloknir her mouth set into a hard line of determination. Her eyes burning a molten gold, the ancient power unfurled from her heart and rushed to every fibre of her being.

Yes. Time to kill a dragon.

...

''I suppose you've earned some answers.''

Lianna and Delphine were sat in the darkest corner of the Braidwood Inn. Sahloknir had fallen to Lianna as was expected and Delphine had refused to answer any questions till they were inside, in the relatively loud safety of an Inn. With the bard serenading away and the Inn packed with travellers there was a large deal of white noise, which meant any private conversation fell on deaf ears by the time it had travelled to the person at the next table. Even so Delphine still spoke in a hoarse voice barely above a whisper.

Lianna lent back into her chair ''Who are you and what do you want with me?''

''I'm part of a gro-'' Delphine straightened herself as Iddra drew near.

''So what will you two have? I've got food for the hungry and drink for the thirsty.''

''Ale.'' Delphine responded without hesitation. Iddra turned to Lianna. Lianna had quickly learned that the staple beverages of any inn were mead, ale, spiced wine or mead. That would have fine if for not that the last time the woman had pressed drink to her lips she had awoken to a pounding headache the morning after with next to no memory of what had happened the previous night. With no scapegoat Lianna answered on impulse.

''The same.'' Iddra turned quickly and left the two women to continue their conversation.

''As I was saying I'm part of a group called the Blades. We are the sworn protectors of the Dragonborn we fight and die for them. For two hundred years now we have been without purpose and our numbers have dwindled to but a few. But now we have a purpose, as once again the Dragonborn walks among us.''

''So...you're like my personal army.''

Delphine chuckled; there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes. ''No, not anymore at least. But in principle yes.''

Lianna flinched as Iddra placed two bottle of mead upon the table, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

''That'll be fifteen Septims.'' Delphine handed the Nord the money, who then pocketed it and disappeared again behind her loud rowdy customers.

Delphine lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. Lianna stared at her own bottle the amber liquid shinning gold in the light.

''So what happens now?''

''We need to figure who's behind the dragons coming back.''

''I'm guessing you have someone in mind.''

Delphine smirked slightly ''Yeah, I think our best bet is the Thalmor.'' She said rolling the base of the bottle against the table.

''The Thalmor...'' Delphine looked up at the Breton's confused expression.

''The rulers of the Aldmeri Dominion, the ones who almost destroyed the Empire in the Great War. The Empire survived the last war by the skin of their teeth, the Thalmor have no intention of losing the next.''

''Why do you think it's the elves?''

''Well think about it. The Empire is weakened already by this war. Throw in dragons and Skyrim is in some real trouble. Who else benefits out of that?''

Lianna drummed her fingers against the table, considering the Nord's answer. The way Delphine spoke of the elves was with more hate and disgust that what she had already encountered from the local elf suspicious Nords.

''I'm guessing the Blades have never been on good terms with the Thalmor?''

''Aye, before the Great War the Blades helped the Empire against the Thalmor. We saw them as threat then, and we still do.''

Delphine finished the dregs of her mead to see that Lianna had not touched hers. The Nord raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. The late afternoon eventually dragged into the night. With the main topic at hand discussed the women spent the hours listening to the choruses of the bard and watching the drunken brawls that would break out at seemingly regular intervals.

Only when Iddra had approached them about wanting a room due to the late hour had the advancement of time dawned on Lianna. Delphine had declined saying she needed to get to back to Riverwood to figure out a plan. Though Lianna, who was still feeling rather sore from her fight with Sahloknir accepted. Paying then ten Septims for a room and breakfast, and bathing faculties, she promptly used said bathing facilities. She washed herself, cleaned off the sweat, mud and blood that had dried to her skin and hair. She healed any minor wounds that she had left and entered her room feeling fresh and somewhat more recovered to find a not upon her bedside table.

_Lianna_

_Meet me in the Braidwood Inn_

_Tomorrow at the eleventh hour_

Lianna read the note again. Her brow knitted together with confusion and suspicion. The note was not from Delphine, if so the Nord would have put some kind of signature of some sort. Not only that, the note had not been there earlier which meant somebody had snuck into the room. Lianna shuddered at the thought of a stranger's eyes watching her from the shadows. Falling into the bed she decided that Delphine's paranoia was contagious. She rolled over and thought nothing of the note for the rest of the evening.

...

Rising from her bed still bleary with sleep Lianna dressed herself in her robes. Only when she took one last sleep heavy look around the room to check she hadn't left anything behind, did she remember the note that sat upon her bedside table. Picking it up she read its contents over again and check the back for anything else and found nothing. Deciding she could only wait for the mysterious person to arrive she spent the rest of the morning much like the night before eating breakfast, chatting with the more sociable locals and enjoying the music the bards played. When the eleventh hour drew near Lianna moved away from the hubbub that centred around the fire pit and took a seat against the wall and waited. And without fail at exactly the eleventh hour a hooded figure entered the inn. Lianna noted that the hooded individual caught the door before it could slam shut. The hooded figure was clad in tight fitted armour that hugged the skin and betrayed no sound of any movement as she made her way towards the seated Breton. Lianna straightened herself as the hooded women seated herself at the table. For the moment the two didn't acknowledge each other, they ignored each other as if neither had any business with the other. Lianna tried to take a better look at the women seated before her, but thanks to the hood she could only be sure of two things. First: that the person was a woman, and that second she was a tall woman. Taller than a Nord woman. That...that was interesting.

''So you got my note, it seems.'' The mysterious woman addressed Lianna with such sudden and casual tone that Lianna nearly jumped clean out of her chair.

''What do you want?'' Lianna asked her voice cold

''Didn't your mother ever teach you manners, _Lianna_?'' The woman responded. Lianna felt herself lean forward slightly in the chair and clench and unclench her hands.

''How do you know my name?'' Lianna growled

''I've been following you for a while.'' Hooded replied evenly

Lianna's neck prickled, she had been follow? For how long? Why?

Hooded continued undeterred by the hostile woman ''I'm Gaila and I have a proposition for you.''

''Well whatever it is I'm not interested, _Gaila_.''

Gaila chuckled ''I haven't even told you what it is yet. The Imperial Legion wa-''

''Well you can tell the Imperial Legion I'm not interested in their petty war.'' Lianna spat back

Gaila leaned forward across the table, in doing so hair spilled out from her hood. It was the colour of gold. ''Which side do you stand with Lianna?''

''Didn't I just say I don't want to get involved? I stand as far away from both.''

''Even those who don't get involved pick a side. You'll pick a side eventually.''

''Then I hope eventually never comes.''

''You must want the war to end then? Helping the Imperial Legion would end the war pretty quickly, don't you think?'' Lianna raised an eyebrow.

''And in what way would I be _helping _exactly?''

Gaila smirked ''Espionage. Becoming a spy of course.''

There came the loud squeal of the chair being pulled back against wood as Lianna rose with hast. Her expression twisted with anger and disgust.

''You can tell the Legion they can shove their _proposition _up their arses for all I give a damn.''

Lianna turned and began to march quickly towards the door.

''Oh well. Your lose. It would be a pity though if the Blades would happen to fall into unfriendly hands, like...the Thalmor's because of this...because of you.''

Lianna stopped dead in her tracks her heart in her mouth, she turned quickly.

''How do you know about that?'' Lianna hissed standing above the seated woman.

Gaila was the perfect image of ease. Leant back fully in her chair, her legs crossed and a smile playing at her lips.

''Don't worry it's our little secret.'' Gaila whispered ''Now, sit down you're making a scene.''

Lianna felt her cheeks redden as indeed many eyes were on her. She sat opposite Gaila without another word.

''So Lianna you have one of two choices, become a spy for the Imperial Legion or not and your friends the Blades get handed over to the Thalmor.''

Lianna's mind swirled with fear confusion and rage. She was backed into a corner with no escape.

Knowing there was only answer she could give Lianna balled her hands into fists so tight her nails dug into her palms and drew blood. Her eyes became sullen and dull. Defeated.

''Alright. I'll be your damn spy.''

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><p><strong>Please review I want to know what you guys think of the turn of events. Will this finally lead to her and Ulfric meeting? <strong>_maybe ;)_ **UNTIL THE WEEKEND :D Yay for big chapter :3  
><strong>


	11. Trust

**Chapter 11 Enjoy! **

**RainbowWhisper thanks for the review. To clarify about why Lianna became an Imperial Spy to save the Blades, considering she doesn't care much for them **(nor particulary do I haha)**well its because so far the Blades are the only ones who know anything about the dragons and they have a lead on who might be involved in them returning(even though they're wrong) They're the only hope the world has against the dragons at the moment, and I think Lianna would rather keep the only hope for humanity out of the Thalmor's hands. Hope that clears things up :)  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

Trust

''So what happens now? Do I join the Stormcloaks and become a soldier?''

Gaila chuckled softly, ''No, you'd be of no use to us if you were to become a mere soldier. Your job is to get information for us on upcoming battles and the like. If you were to only be a soldier you would be of no use to us, you would learn of vital information far too late.''

''So how would I get the information you needed then?''

''Ah, we must save some surprises Lianna,'' Gaila smirked. ''For the moment your mission is to gain the Stormcloak's trust or at least become above suspicion.''

''Above suspicion?'' Lianna raised an eyebrow

''Yes they'll naturally be suspicious of you.''

''Because I'm a mage.''

''Yes, but also you heritage. You're a Breton and in their eyes that makes you as bad as an elf.''

''So what do I have to do to make them trust me?''

''The Stormcloaks have recently investigated an ancient ruin, Korvanjund, in search of the Jagged Crown. I suggest you go there and see if you can make yourself useful.''

...

They had been the last to leave. The last humans to exit out of the tombs for centuries to come. The others had gone ahead with the Jagged Crown, they had been left to tend to the wounds inflicted by the Draugr and the Imperials that had been ahead of them. Ralof had tended to his companion as best he could in the deep maddening darkness of the tombs; they had not stayed long fearing that more of the undead would rise, so they had left through the labyrinth of chambers out into the chilled fresh air. Eyes had watched them exit and thud down the ancient stairs slick with compacted snow and ice. The Imperials had waited till the two Stormcloaks had the ruin to their backs, then they had descended upon them. The Imperials had ran out from the cover of the trees, four against two, surely an easy victory. But the Imperials in their heavy armour and rash hunger for blood had miscalculated. They had not ambushed mere soldiers, but highly trained Lieutenants.

The silence of the forest was shattered with the clash of swords and the roar of battle. The snow was splashed with crimson blood, as the Imperials fell to the Stormcloaks. Ralof stood gasping over his dead attacker. Multiple lacerations marked the Nord's chest and arms. He turned to his companion who was in far worse shape than himself. Erold was lying on the painted snow holding his knee grunting and gasping in pain. Ralof rushed over and knelt beside his friend.

''Erold! Let me have a look.'' He said calmly.

Erold's quick pained breaths slowed slightly ''Damn Imperial. He was too fast.'' Erold removed his hands, Ralof noted that they were red, not a good sign, both men looked at the damage. The leather armour that had protect the joint had been hacked to ribbons, Erold's fair skin had been dyed red thanks to the blood that had erupted from the deep laceration that started above his knee it had cleanly sliced through the knee cap and continued down to the top of the shin.''

Ralof grimaced ''It'll leave a scar for sure.'' His attempt at lightening the mood failed as he looked at Erold's face. They both knew what a wound that serious meant. Erold could never fight again, never again would he lift a blade in the name of Ulfric Stormcloak, nor would he ever be able to cut down an Imperial bastard. Erold's face was twisted with pain and rage.

''He should have killed me.'' Erold whispered bitterly. Ralof's heart went out to the man. Erold was an excellent fighter; he was a man of passion in combat and in his raw being. It was a sad day indeed when a fine Lieutenant could no longer fight. Ralof suddenly realised how venerable they would be if a second wave of Imperials were to come for them. Also the sky was beginning to darken, soon the wolves would come. Quickly Ralof pulled Erold too his feet or rather foot. Erold put his arm around his friend's shoulders and the two hobbled through the thick snow looking for shelter so they could try and repair their broken and defeated bodies.

...

The fire crackled and snapped in the silence of near nightfall. Ralof was entranced by the golden flames. He thought of his sister Gerdur and how the mill must be doing. Sometimes it saddened him how different their lives were to each other. It was hard to believe the two of them were related sometimes. He rash, ignorant and arrogant had picked up a sword and bow and vanished into the wilderness when he had been barely able to grow whiskers. He had left his family and the boring mill for the excitement life of an adventurer. Gerdur, the mature and responsible one had taken control over the mill in his absence and they had lived life and grown. Only years later he returned home, ready to face their rage, but his mother and sister had greeted him as if had never left. He lived with them as if life had never changed. He worked in the mill breaking his back every day. He went to Whiterun every week with his mother to sell and buy from the market. He had even fallen in love with a girl from Helgen. For a while he had been happy.

But it didn't take long for the call of the blade and adventure to find his ears. He first learned of the Stormcloaks through rumour and drunken arguments. As the days had slide by he became more and more restless to join his kin under the banner of Ulfric Stormcloak. So he had announced the news, his mother had wept that her son would leave her again, Gerdur had watched him arms crossed she had simply told him _'You have grown brother.'_ So he left his lover, sister and mother to join the Stormcloaks. And as much as he missed them he hadn't looked back since.

Erold snorted in his sleep and Ralof smirked slightly. Only an hour before Erold had been writhing on the floor and howling as Ralof had sat over him dripping the few healing potions they had onto the red haired Nord's knee. Now he was sleeping like a dog. Ralof shifted his eyes over his friend's knee. The wound looked slightly better now than before it was crusted and dry, the potions had healed it a certain extent but Erold would still never lift a blade. Ralof rolled his shoulders out of habit and twinged with pain. Aye, he had used all the potions he had on Erold, the Nord was now beginning to regret his selflessness as his body began to truly ache with pain.

Suddenly there came a rush of footsteps through thick snow. Ralof reached for his axe and readied himself into a crouch, his body popped and stabbed with pain but he ignored it. Casting an eye back to Erold he noted he was awake and staring intently in the direction the footsteps had come from. Their eyes meet, Erold's flickered with frustration. The Nord would never again be of any use in a battle.

''_Ralof_.'' Came a voice from the shadows, it was the voice of a woman. Ralof's eyes widened as the Breton from Helgen came into view. He instantly dropped the axe and rose to his full height. The Breton stepped into the light thrown from the fire and it was indeed Lianna.

''What are you doing here Lianna?'' Ralof asked. Korvanjund wasn't exactly a tourist destination; it was far from the beaten track.

''I just was passing through.'' The Breton responded with a twitch of a mischievous smile at her lips. Ralof shook his head; she was a barrel of mystery.

''You're injured.'' Lianna stated the evident her eyes quickly looking over them both.

''Yeah, about that, you wouldn't mind helping us out.''

Lianna flashed him a genuine smile ''It would be my pleasure.''

...

''Stop looking like a scolded child.'' Laughed Ralof

Erold was sat with his arms crossed against his chest his damaged knee which had been beautifully healed was clean and bandaged. Erold's eyes were narrowed with annoyance and his lips sat in a sour line. He was sulking.

''I still don't see why she has to come along with us.'' Erold growled.

Having gotten over the initial shock of discovering the Breton Ralof had asked her to heal Erold's mangled knee, though as soon as the woman had taken one step towards him Erold had protested.

''_No thanks, keep your magic to yourself.'' Erold snapped_

''_Erold stop being an uppity bastard and accept her aid.'' Ralof immediately replied _

''_I don't want her help. If you want it so much then by all means, go ahead and get toasted by her magic.'' _

_Ralof groaned in exasperation. Lianna simply shrugged. ''Suit yourself. When you're done having a tantrum, just ask.'' _

_Lianna deftly healed Ralof's wounds in silence all the while conscious of Erold's eyes watching her intently. _

_Lianna rolled her eyes ''Right you're all done Ralof.'' Rose her glowing hands dimming until the golden light vanished from her palms. _

_Ralof thanked the woman and walked over to his friend and crouched besides him and spoke in a hushed whisper. _

''_Look I'm fine. I assure you she won't burn you to cinders Erold.'' _

_Erold's eyes twitched ''Don't talk to me like a child Ralof. I'm a lieutenant and should be addressed as such.''_

''_Well start acting like one. This woman is offering you help, which you need, desperately my friend.''_

''_Don't you think I know that. Don't you think I know I'll never be able to lift an axe and storm an Imperial City. I know Ralof I fucking know.''_

_Ralof sighed. ''Well don't you want to change that?'' _

''_Of course I do. Just without _her _help.''_

_Ralof grabbed the man by the shoulders ''You stubborn fool. She could save from a horrible fate yet you still refuse her aid.''_

_Their argument carried one through the twilight until the brother moons were just visible over the mountain tops. _

''_Alright. _Alright. _You win Ralof.'' Erold shouted, Ralof smiled in victory. ''Fine. Breton make with the magic and heal my damn knee.'' Erold demanded. _

_Lianna sat beside him and laid a glowing hand over the knee. Her face deep in concentration. Erold shivered as the gentle heat seeped into his skin. He found it disturbingly calming as the heat intensified as it brought together his knee cap and sealed together the skin. Looking down Erold was shocked to see his knee looking normal albeit for a pink scar that marked where the skin had met and melted together. _

''_It will be sore for a while, and it might be painful to walk long distances but you'll be fine. Eventually'' Lianna said quietly._

Ralof smiled at his friend and cast an eye over to the sleeping Breton opposite them.

''Because Lieutenant she needs to keep an eye on the both of us. We're both injured and weakened, you should be thankful she's accompanying us back to Winterhold.''

Erold snorted ''How do you know each other anyway.''

''She was at Helgen, it's thanks to her that I'm here today.''

''Really.'' He seemed to genuinely consider Ralof's statement ''If she was at Helgen that meant she was wanted for some reason surely?''

Ralof shrugged ''She wasn't on the executioner's list. I don't know why they picked her up. They said she was a spy, but I don't believe that.''

''A spy?'' Erold quirked an eyebrow.

''Aye, the picked her up just passed the border. They called her a spy, to be honest I think it was just a reason to add another head to the spike''

Erold cast his eyes over the sleeping woman. Her face was peaceful and almost childlike. Ralof was right there was no way Lianna could have been a spy.

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><p><strong>Spolier: next chapter Lianna and Ulfric finally meet. 12 chapters down the line, but we got there :D See you all next week!<strong>


	12. Into The Bear's Den

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Into The Bear's Den

_Melodie __Magusson could smell spring through the open windows. The sudden bout of heat had made the sweet acrid smell all the more pungent. Melodie wished she could shut the windows, to stop the thick sticky heat from occupying the room any longer. To simply allow the cool air from the corridors to embrace her and chase away her sheen of sweat. Being bound to her bed thanks to her fragile health meant the woman could only lie back against the pillows and stare at the gold bordered ceiling. Melodie turned to the sound of the door opening. In the threshold stood a maid and holding her hand was a little girl. The girl was dressed in a handsome spring dress. Someone had created a chain of flowers for the girl and she now wore them on her head like a wreath. Noticeably the girl was bare foot, the young Breton detested shoes in her unheld hand she carried a book with great care. Melodie's face lit up instantly with a smile she tried to sit up but was quickly and gently pushed back down by the maid's warm hand on her shoulder. _

''_Please my lady, you mustn't move.'' Melodie resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, sitting up wasn't that excreting, if she only did it once in a while. _

''_Mummy. I brought a book, can you read it to me?'' Asked Delphinia grinning, as she leapt up onto the bed. _

_Her mother laughed a soft trill of seldom heard music. Melodie's shoulders shuddered and her chest tightened, her laugh became strangled as she coughed hoarsely into her hands. The maid rose quickly from her seat and rubbed the woman's back, only to be quickly waved off with a soft smile and raise of a peaked hand. Melodie stole a quick look at her palms and felt a frisson of fear run up her spine. Blood. She looked up at her daughter's face, those silver eyes watching her there was a flicker of worry in them. Melodie flashed her daughter a bright nonchalant smile. _

''_Of course,'' Delphinia clambered over the bed, book in hand, to sit comfortably against the pillows, she leant on her mother's shoulder and presented the book with a toothy grin. The book presented was the child's favourite; it had been read so many times the cover had been worn down. The story told the tale of a brave if not ignorant and clumsy adventurer and his journey across Tamriel and the treasures he discovered. _

_Melodie opened the book and began to read. Delphinia listened to her mother's voice, she closed her eyes and cuddled against her mother's neck, her thumb in her mouth. Her mother's voice was no louder than a whisper and yet had the rare talent of seemingly being able to stop time. The world stilled, the wind ceased, the birds fell silent and the loud market streets quelled. The world seemed to stop and listen to the dying mother hold and tell her child a story. _

_The book was shut, the tale read. Both sat happy in the shared moment of peace. Delphinia removed her thumb from her mouth_

''_Mum when you get better can we go an adventure?'' _

_Melodie gave her daughter a wan smile ''Yes, we'll take the world by storm. We'll become the stuff of legend.'' _

...

Lianna felt relief and dread as she followed Ralof and a limping Erold across the ice covered bridge that led to Windhelm. Relief as they had been travailing for three days and Lianna was getting very tired of the way Erold was treating her. The Nord never said anything to her that was an insult, as far as she was aware anyway. It was just the way he would watch her when she would rebandage his knee, the way that he would never fall in line with her step, unlike Ralof, preferring to limp ahead. Even now she could feel Erold's gave on her slightly, it was as if the Nord expected her to explode at any moment. Dread gripped her thoughts as for one; she was entering the city home to the rebel leader and his army, as an Imperial spy, if they found out she would be gutted like a fish before she could blink. And two, there seemed to be a dark aura about the place, as dark as the very stone the city was built of.

They trudged through the great amber doors into the city. Finally knowing they were home the two Stormcloaks increased their pace eager to finally rest their bodies. They were home. Lianna was forced to trot to keep up with the longer limbed men, she took in a deep breath, she tasted the city in her mouth as she breathed, There was the hot smell of metal, the frigid ice as it was swallowed by her lungs, and surprising her, salt, the sea.

Lianna trotted after the two Nords quickly as they passed a very inviting inn that radiated heat, it called Lianna with its heat that would thaw her frozen bones and her tired body. Hesitating momentarily by a window as if to try and absorb the heat, to no avail. She turned and continued after her two companions as Erold called her to hurry up.

...

Lianna stood against the wall feeling very self conscious. On either side of her Ralof and Erold seemed at ease, undeterred by the fact that they were eavesdropping on what was probably meant to be a private conversation. Sure the guards had let them in and it was in the public hall of the Palace of the Kings, but still. The hall was decorated with the Stormcloak insignia- a roaring bear- hung from banners that lined the walls. _How very pretentious. _Unlike Dragonsreach there was no large fire pit or bookcases or the general ambiance of people, the place seemed to be bare (pardon the pun) and cold. Though like Dragonsreach there was a large bench that stretched across the hall, it was lined with silver plates and goblets that were heavily ladened with food that remained untouched. It seemed they both had never heard the concept of wastage.

''The Empire's putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun.'' Rumbled a thick disembodied voice, that came from a room off the hall.

''What would you have me do?'' Responded a younger voice from the same room.

Lianna felt a frisson of electricity run up her spine. Erold saw the girl besides him stand slightly straighter, so it began. He had seen it happen with new soldiers, it had happened in himself. As soon as he heard Ulfric's low voice, the voice that had led armies across Skyrim, the voice that could spin out such a speech that would have any man unconditionally follow his banner, he had known that from that point on he would follow him to Oblivion and back if he asked. Erold was mistaken, though the voice had indeed caught the woman's attention. It had reverberated her bones and stilled her very being, it had captured her ears and now she listened intently, but, this was all secondary. It was what the voice was saying that had the woman's concentration. _Whiterun. They're talking about Whiterun. _

''If he's not with us, he's against us.''

''He knows that, they all know that.''

''How long are you going to wait?'' The thicker voice growled.

''You think I need to send Balgruuf a stronger message.''

''If you mean message you mean shoving a sword through his gullet.''

Erold noticed Lianna flinch slightly.

''Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would make a more powerful statement, don't you think?''

_Over my dead body you are!_ Lianna's eyes hardened. Whiterun was her home, granted one she seldom visited, but still it was her home. She would protect her home with her life if she had too.

''So we're ready to start this war inertest then?''

There was a pregnant pause ''Soon.'' Simply replied the younger voice.

''I still say you should take them all out like you did Deadking Torygg.''

Lianna felt like kicking herself for not realizing it sooner. Ulfric Stormcloak the Jarl of Windhelm the man who had shouted Torygg to pieces, well not literally, that was physically impossible. The less favored out off the Greybeard's students, granted there were only two of them, but still she was the favorite over him and that made a small childish joy fill her belly. Was in the next room discussing how to topple Whiterun.

''Torygg was just a message to the other Jarls. Whoever we replace them with will need the support of our armies.''

''We're ready when you are.'' Growled the older voice that Lianna couldn't indentify. At his words she noticed Ralof and Erold stand slightly starter and they traded a glance over her head. Whoever the second voice was he had authority.

''Things hinge on Whiterun. If we can take the city without bloodshed all the better. But if not...'' Ulfric sounded hesitant.

_Or you could just leave Whiterun alone, then there'll be no bloodshed whatsoever._

''The people are behind you.''

''Many I fear still need convincing.''

''The let them die with their false kings.''

_A bit cut-throat. Oh yeah, 'if they're not with us their against us' policy._

Ulfric seemed to agree with Lianna ''We've been soldiers a long time. We know the price of freedom. The people are still weighing things in their hearts.''

''What's left of Skyrim to wager?'' The thick voice countered.

''They have families to think of.'' Ulfric replied simply.

''How many of their sons and daughters follow your banner? We are their families.'' There was a pause.

''Well put friend. Tell me, Galmar, why do you fight for me?'' Ulfric's voice was getting louder and clearer. They were coming to the main hall.

''I'd follow you into the depths of Oblivion, you know that.'' Galmar responded without hesitation.

''Yes, but why do you fight? If not for me, what then?'' Lianna heard the two men's heavy footsteps and watched as they excited into the hall.

She recognized Ulfric instantly, he was just as she remembered him. Tall, broad, with the silver cloak on his shoulders. As for Galmar...Lianna had quickly learned that Skyrim was a strange place. When something strange happened, people generally just ran with it, they didn't tend to ask questions. Even for the Nords though, this was just too odd. The man was dressed in a bear skin, with the bear's head sat atop his own. She had heard that two heads were better than one, but this...this was just ridiculous.

_I'm starting to think these Nords are a bit too into bears..._

''I'll die before elves dictate the fate of men. Are we not one in this?''

The two men were now stood besides the throne that occupied much of the back wall. If they had seen the Breton and the Nords that stood beside her, they never acknowledged them.

Ulfric quickly turned to Galmar ''I fight for the men I've held dying in my arms, dying on foreign soil.'' His voice grew louder and with it his pace quickened. ''I fight for their wives and children whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths. I fight for we few who did come home only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting already done hasn't been for nothing.''

Lianna found herself spellbound by the Nord's words, he spoke with such raw passion, she quickly shut her jaw that had embarrassingly hung open throughout Ulfric's speech.

_He might be a traitor, but you can't ignore he's one hell of a public speaker. _

She watched as Ulfric sat back into his throne seemingly exhausted from his outburst.

''I fight...because I must.'' His voice was just a murmur.

''Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric. And that's why you will be High King. But the day words are enough, will be the day soldiers like us are no longer needed.''

''I would gladly retire from the world were such a day to dawn.'' Ulfric said the calmness of his words returning to him, a slightly smile twitched at his lips.

''Aye. But in the meantime, we have a war to plan.'' Galmar chuckled thickly.

''Come on Breton.'' Erold whispered snidely as he and Ralof walked (in Erold's case limp) towards the throne Lianna fell in step behind them.

''Ah there you two are, we'd thought you'd gotten lost.'' Galmar growled turning to the two Stormcloaks.

''We got ambushed by some Imperials.'' Growled Erold there was a hint of shame in his voice.

''Imperial spies are everywhere, remember that.'' Ulfric said from the throne.

Lianna felt her ears heat up, she thanked the Divines that her hair covered them. Suddenly Lianna felt the air thicken with suspicion, this probably didn't look good. Two Stormcloaks are ambushed; they survive and appear before their Jarl with an unnamed mage with them. Nope this didn't look good.

''We would have been dead if it wasn't for Lianna.'' Ralof cut in

Galmar's brow crumpled ''Who?''

Lianna felt a forcefully hand clap onto her shoulder ''We were in a tight spot, she helped us out of it. It's thanks to her I'll still be able to wield a blade.'' Lianna's eyes widened as she turned to Erold, he had stood up for her.

There was a pause as Ulfric and Galmar digested the news.

''I thank you for helping my men. It seems we're all branded criminals these days.'' Ulfric said his eyes upon the young Breton.

''Your welcome.'' The girl said quietly she raised her eyes to his. Ulfric met those grey eyes and suddenly he recognized her. She was at Helgen, the Breton left out in the cold to die. He was surprised to see her alive, not many survived Helgen. It seemed she had grown since then. Before she had held herself like a civilian, a noble civilian at that. But now she held herself like someone who had experienced combat. He noticed that she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Suddenly there came the sound of footsteps, all eyes rose to watch as the Jarl's Steward entered the hall.

''Found anything Jorleif?'' Asked Ulfric.

Jorleif shook his head ''No nothing new Ulfric.''

''Has someone yet to return?'' Asked Ralof

Galmar snorted ''No, Ulfric is chasing the Dragonborn.''

Ulfric noticed there was a flicker of an unreadable emotion in the Breton's eyes.

''The Dragonborn was last sighted in Kynesgrove, where they apparently took down a dragon. From there the trail goes cold.''

Ulfric tapped his fingers against the arm of the throne in annoyance. The Dragonborn was possibly as close a Kynesgrove, right on his doorstep and then had vanished again, it was positively infuriating.

Galmar turned to the two Stormcloaks besides him.

''You two go rest your heads. You have done enough here.'' Galmar said

Both nodded and drew away from the throne, Lianna followed them having nothing else to do.

''Lass what do you say to going to Candlehearth Hall?'' Ralof asked with a smile.

Lianna nodded vigorously, all she wanted now was to fall asleep in a bed with a hot meal inside her.

Ralof turned to Erold ''What about you?''

''No, I think I'm just gonna go sleep.'' He responded. Ralof shrugged before turning for the doors that led back out into Windhelm, Lianna went to follow him but was stopped when a hand gripped her shoulder. She turned to find Erold's face close to hers.

''Listen Breton, I saved your skin back there because you saved mine. Don't think for a moment that I did it out of the kindness of my heart. An eye for an eye. Got it?'' Erold growled into her ear.

Lianna cracked him half a smile ''Of course Erold, I didn't think you had a heart to begin with.''

…

Lianna was leant against the bar enjoying the ambiance of the inn. Clasped in her hands was a deliciously warm soup that made her innards sing. Upon entering the inn Ralof had introduced her to the other Stormcloaks that had been around the bar area. Lianna had struck up a new found friendship with a young Stormcloak called Svedi, the two had talked animatedly throughout the evening, but Svedi had departed to bed moments ago leaving Lianna with Ralof and a few other Stormcloaks, that was when she felt their eyes upon her. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair; she looked up at the men who were staring at her. They were throwing her dark looks and whispering loudly amongst themselves. Now normally Lianna wouldn't have paid them any mind, she would have probably clear out quickly to avoid a confrontation. But not this time, maybe it was the fact that she had endured three days of being watched with suspicion, maybe she was just tired and irritable or maybe she just wanted to give them black eyes for hating her for her race and the place of her birth.

''You got a problem?'' She growled at them. ''If so then spit it out.''

One of the men rose from his table. ''Yeah I got a problem with you. You're an elf lover, elf lovers don't do well in this city.'' He growled as he made his way towards her.

''Well I'm sure I'll manage.'' She snapped back. They had called her and elf lover, not that she was an elf hater, not at all. It just surprised her that they had mentioned elves, as Lianna had seen none in the city so far.

''Hey. Hey. What's going on here.'' Someone shouted turning Lianna saw Ralof walking towards them.

''Just tell this _Breton,''_ He spat the word as if it had fouled his mouth. ''that her kind ain't wanted here.''

''My kind.'' Lianna hissed arms crossed.

''Yeah, I don't want no elf fucker in my city.'' The Nord spat.

Suddenly there came a great cacophony of sound. The scraping of chairs, the shouts of outrage collided together to create a deafening roar. Lianna saw Ralof being held back by two men, the Nord who had insulted her was also being held back.

''Filthy elf fucker, polluting us with your stink, how dare you come into this city.'' The Nord snapped at her. Lianna felt her blood boil, her eyes flashed with gold. Nobody had thought to grab her, to hold her back, nobody stopped her as she lunged forward. She brought her curled fist to the man's face and felt the satisfactory crunch of cartilage as she broke his nose. The Nord howled back in back clutching his face, then all hell broke loose.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed! Please R&amp;R. <strong>

Elf fucker is a term I made up, basically being a Breton Lianna has both human and mer heritage, which means her ancesters were infact elf fuckers, but I imagine it would be a derogatory term.

If anyone is expecting Lianna and Ulfric to immidaitley skip into the sunset completely head over heels, then you're reading the wrong fic :P

See you next week!


	13. Trouble's Brewing

**I wanted to upload this yesterday, but for some reason fanficton wouldn't let me log in...**

**Events during this chapter take place just before Lianna arrives at Windhelm.**

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Trouble's Brewing

The sky was a pale pink as the sun peeked out of the horizon. Pink and gold washed over Kynesgrove as dawn began to slide into early morning.

Iddra worked deftly, her quick and sure hands lifted the chairs off of the tables and bar area. She hauled in the logs for the fire from the fresh biting morning air. She dropped them into the pit and lit the wood with her old tinder box. She stretched and yawned and made her way into the back room of the inn, the kitchen. She turned the spit slowly as the flames licked at the shanks of meat skewered above the flames; the meat was turning an appetizing brown. The smell of crackling moist meat dancing in her nose as she grabbed the neck's of bottles that sloshed with wine. Making her way back into the main room of the Inn she arranged the wine bottles across the bar and placed down three tankards for each bottle.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she took in a breath and retied her dark hair. Running an Inn was hard but satisfying work. Especially with the influx of guards that had been sent down from Windhelm to protect the village from any possible pending dragon attacks. Though thankfully as of yet Kynesgrove had been noticeably missing dragon activity which had led to many bored Stormcloaks who passed the time in front of the fire, drinking and telling tales. If nothing else the dragon's revival had helped line Iddra's pockets.

Braidwood Inn's door opened with a groan, it was then gently shut. Iddra's eyebrows quirked as she looked across the Inn to the newly arrived individuals. Thalmor, there were four of them. Three of the four were dressed in handsome golden armor while the fourth, who appeared to be the leader, was dressed in a dark robe with gold and silver detailing, which was as pretentious as the gold armor. Iddra could positively smell their disdain and believed superiority as they looking around the Inn with their exotic golden eyes.

Iddra would have loved to have thrown them out of her Inn, oh she would have reveled in their high and mighty faces being thrown into the mud, but that would mean lowering herself to their level, Iddra would rather be dragged through the streets than be considered on the same level as the Thalmor. Gritting her teeth into a cold grimace, she would have to quite literally grin and bear it.

''What can I do for this morning?'' Iddra asked as the elves walked towards her. Their movements caused their armor to clink slightly; Iddra noted the swords at their hips.

''We have reason to believe that a Blade and a Blade sympathizer stayed here only a few nights ago.''

Iddra quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. ''I don't divulge information about my clientele.''

''These individuals are a threat to the Empire, and so should be brought to justice.''

The Nord woman had no idea who or what the Blades were, she concluded that they were probably a group of Talos worshippers that gave themselves a name.

''Look, even if knew who or what you were talking about, I can't remember everyone that passes through my door.''

The leader of the little band smirked slightly.

''Well maybe we can _persuade_ you to remember,'' he twitched his index and middle finger towards one of the armored elves. There was a blur of gold; a shrill clank of the sliding golden plated armor, followed instantly by a deep thud and a strangled grunt of shock and pain.

Iddra opened her eyes her head throbbing, she recognized the firm wood of the bar against her back, she tried to in take a breath and noticed a cold hard object pressed to her throat. There pressed firmly against her skin was a golden dagger, her eyes met those of the elf who held the weapon to her throat. They were lifeless and dead, melancholic almost, she must have been mistaken these elves didn't feel. They were beasts; beasts don't have feelings.

''I'm telling you I don't know who you're on about!'' Iddra shrilly barked.

Robed elf seemed to consider her response for a moment, he decided to humor her.

''We are looking for two women, a Nord and a Breton.'' Robed elf said his voice cold and hard.

Iddra's eyes widened she knew who they were talking about; panic froze her heart for a moment. _Delphine, there're after Delphine. _

''I don't know where they went.'' Iddra half lied.

Robed elf laughed a deep laugh, he lent down to the Nord's eye level, he reached out his hand, he rested in upon her head, he thread his fingers between her hair. Iddra stiffened. The elf pulled upwards quickly.

''Don't lie woman. You know where they went. Where did the Blades woman go?'' The elf snarled.

Iddra yowled in pain as the elf continued to pull; the dagger at her throat was pressed down with more force.

''I don't know where she went.'' Iddra gasped out.

The robed elf let go of her hair suddenly, the Nord's head dropped suddenly. The elf who had pressed the dagger to her throat moved it quickly as not to sever through her skin, taking her life. She hadn't given them the information they needed yet.

_She, singular. So the Nord knows where one of them is. _

''Tell us where one of them went then, and we might not kill you.''

Iddra sat up straight, hatred burned in her eyes. Her mouth opened and out came a flurry of curses. She was cut short by a firm kick in her ribs.

''I won't ask again. Where did one of them go.''

Iddra gasped clutching her side, she felt tears slide down her face. _Forgive me my friend, forgive me Delphine. _

''The Breton was going to Korvanjund. That's all I know.'' Iddra rasped.

Robed elf smirked broadly; he bent forward and took her chin in his hand.

''That wasn't that hard, was it?'' He whispered. The Nord growled at him, disgust burned in her eyes. He noted the many different shades of blue that swirled in her eyes, there was a soft dusting of freckles across her checks and nose, her breath was hot on his face. Quickly he stood back up to his full height; his eyes met those of the Altmer who held the dagger against the Nord's soft neck. He gave a single nod as he turned to exit the Inn.

He heard the strangled scream of the woman as the blade cut through her throat. He imaged her crimson blood splash against her pale skin, her cold vacant eyes...

''Sir, the Stormcloaks recently raided Korvanjund.'' Said one of the Thalmor soldier as they excited the Braidwood Inn and started off on a dirt path away from the village.

''So the Breton is involved with the Stormcloaks…I want the area around Windhelm patrolled. If we capture her she will lead us the Blade woman.''

As they walked away from the village the elves could hear several shouts and exclamations coming from the inn. They increased their pace.

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><p><strong>Still finding dialogue a bitch to write, but I think I'm getting better.<strong>

**Have a good one guys! :)**


	14. Run

**I hope everyone had a wonderful Valentine's Day, or for those who (like myself) don't celebrate the holiday because we're forever alone, I hope you all had a wonderful Tuesday! :D**

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Run.

Thanks to years of relentless training and nights on guard duty, the Stormcloaks could wake at the single drop of a pin. Which meant Erold and his fellow shield brothers and sisters had been rudely pulled from the bliss of slumber when the barrack door had been pushed open and in had walked two less than silent figures. He had opened one eye and looked across the room to see Svedi, a recently enlisted Stormcloaks, and with her was the Breton.

From the low glow of a quickly lit candle Erold could see that Lianna looked beaten up. Her lip was spilt and bleeding slightly, her jaw was turning a deep purple and several small cuts dotted her face. He watched as Svedi quickly ushered the girl over to a table.

Erold closed his eyes for a moment simply listening to their quiet movements and hushed whispers; he wondered how many others were watching and listening to the two women, their eyes half closed the gold hue of the candle making their eyes glisten gold as the lay in their beds.

His pensive musing slurred with sleep was interrupted by a soft _tink _that sound like glass being dropped onto metal. Opening an eye Erold cast his gaze to the two women. Svedi was delicately picking glass out of the Bretons face and hands. He could only have guessed what had happened;Rolff and his cronies had beaten the girl to a bloody pulp on the basis of her heritage.

''I've probably broken some kind of record, not even in Windhelm for an hour and I end up in a fight.''

''You're the first Breton, that's for sure.''

''At least I broke the bastard's nose.''

Erold might have being amused or surprised at Lianna's comment, but sleep had once again taken gradual hold of his body and slowly the two women's conversation became muffled it soft drones. The little candle that threw gold on the walls and across their faces became dimmer until it was snuffed out by the blackness of sleep.

…

Ulfric sat on his throne, Whiterun playing on his mind. By the end of the week they would have Whiterun, a vital city which could mean the turning point for the war. He was brought out of his thoughts when the door to the barracks opened and the Breton from the day previous excited.

The young woman slide out of the door without a sound and hastily made for the large amber doors that led back out into Windhelm.

''It isn't every day I see a Breton exit my barracks.''

Lianna jumped and turned quickly, she had not noticed him. She was surprised to see that his face was blank; the glimmer of humor that had escaped into his slow deep voice had quickly been retracted.

''I wasn't my wish to end up there.''

''Yes, I heard about your….altercation.'' Ulfric noted her face was unmarked, it showed no evidence of a brawl, but she was a mage. Healing was second nature to her kind.

Lianna inwardly winced slightly ''News seems to travel fast.''

''Aye it does, it isn't often a Breton walks into this Windhelm and breaks a habitants nose.'' The humor slipped into his voice again; there was a ghost of a smile at his lips.

Lianna's cheeks took on a pink hue and she gave him a sheepish smile.

''It seems you have a way of finding trouble.'' He said slowly

Lianna gave a roll of her shoulders her cheeks reddened ''I don't go looking for trouble, trouble just seems to find me.'' There was a somber almost sadness to her words.

Ulfric leant back in his stone throne he ran a hand threw his hair, his face had taken on a more grave expression ''Well then, you best be careful. There are things much more dangerous and evil than Rolff Stone-Fist in Skyrim.''

…

Lianna hadn't lessened her pace for nearly an hour, her legs were burning and her throat was tight, but she disregarded these things. She needed to get to Whiterun she needed to tell Balgruuf of the pending attack, even if she couldn't par take in defending the city (she had aided the Stormcloaks and planted a seed of trust, it would have been stupid to stand at Whiterun's battlements and take down the soldiers of the cause she was going to infiltrate) she could at least make sure the city wasn't taken by surprise.

Her breath plumed out in front of her as a gossamer fog, her steps were heavy as she waded through the deep snow. Maybe it was time to by a horse, thanks to her gallivanting around Skyrim after bandits and dragons she had raised a good amount of coin. Her thoughts were cut short when the thundering of hooves broke the silence.

Looking up Lianna saw a horse making good pace towards her, the beast was ridden by an Altmer. Lianna stiffened and bent forwards slight into a battle stance, anticipating combat. The horse slowed to stand before her, its rider looked down at her; there was triumph in the elf's eyes.

The horse was a dark tall beast of rippling muscle with a thick almost woolen hide, its great eyes wild, hot breath escaped its mouth as it snorted and pulled at the bit.

''Blade, you have committed crimes against the White-Gold Concordant. Come quietly and we might avoid disconnecting your head from your neck.'' The elf said, his long dark rode detailed with gold and silver billowed around him. Lianna gritted her teeth her hands burst suddenly with flames, she was about to raise her hand and burn to elf to cinders when there came a commotion through the trees and snow. Another horse burst through the trees followed by four elves in golden armor. Lianna's courage faltered.

_Outnumbered._

There was a blur of golden heat that shot from the woman's hand, it collided with the snow under the horse's feet, the horse reared back a panic stricken neigh escaping its mouth. There came a thud, the robed elf was flung to the ground. Not wasting another moment Lianna dove away from them into the trees. Lianna sprinted, she moved so fast she wasn't sure if her feet touched the hard packed snow under her boots. Her vision was but a blur of green and white, not caring which direction she bolted to, she simply _ran. _

She heard shouts behind her, they were close. The thunder of hooves shook the trees and sky. She tried to increase her speed, widen her stride, but found she couldn't, she hated herself for being so rash as to nearly run all the way to Whiterun. Behind her came the crackle of electricity Lianna felt panic build in her chest. She turned and saw the bolt of blue energy fly through the air towards her. She didn't have time to even blink before she felt it enter her chest, she became cold suddenly her muscles tightened. She felt wind on her face, she was airborne it seemed. Before she could full understand how she had got into the air she felt her body fall back down the earth. Her muscles wouldn't move and her chest hurt. Lianna's lungs gasped for air.

The world fuzzed around her to black, but before the void of unconsciousness took her, when there was still a slither of light passing through her eye lids she heard a slow voice from her mind.

''_There are things much more dangerous and evil than Rolff Stone-Fist in Skyrim.''_

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed! <strong>_  
><em>


	15. Forsaken

**Sorry for no chapter last week I was really busy with college work and writers block didn't help either... Oh and I've just started a Harry Potter story so if anyone wants to take a gander at it then I'll love you all the more :3 But that's enough of that lets get onto the story.**

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Forsaken

Her tongue was dry and cracked from lack of water, lightheaded agony burned from her empty belly. The chains that bound her wrists were heavy in her lap; they cut into her wrists with every movement she made. The smell of piss and shit was thick in her nose and throat. It appeared she was the only one who hadn't given in and soiled herself yet.

The cell she had been roughly thrown in had been one of many; the cells were made of wood and surprisingly brightly lit. There was a constant sound above their heads, of footsteps, loud conversations, the dropping of heavy objects, the general noise of life. There was never a lull of the noise which could have suggested night time when those disembodies feet and voice would rest. No, the life above was relentless which meant there was little indication or confirmation of time in that place that was close to hell.

The only thing that seemed to indicate the passing of a day was that an elf would go to each cell. In one hand a sack with hunks of stale bread, and in the other a bucket that sloshed with murky water thick with silt. The elf would go to each prisoner and press a ladle of water to their lips and drop the hard bread into their mouths and then move onto the next. He had done this three times, which suggested three or so days had passed. Each time he had ignored the Breton that watched him with a mixture of hate and desperate pleading. Lianna guessed this was to weaken her both in body and mind.

She had watched others being pulled from their cell. Those who returned were bloody and hunched over; they were often dragged across the wooden floor, limp and wanting death. Lianna waited for the elves to come for her, to drag her further into hell.

...

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was much like the city he ruled over. Old, weathered, strong. Like his beloved city Jarl Balgruuf had fallen to enemy hands. He was now flanked by two Stormcloaks. He did not struggle; he knew when to accept defeat. He was being led down to steps of Dragonsreach out into the air that was alive with fire and blood, when the great doors opened and there blocking the oak doors was Vignar Gray-Mane.

Balgruuf stopped in his tracks, teeth gritted and eyes alive with rage. ''Gray-Mane, '' his voice thick with disdain.

''Balgruuf.'' Vignar replied curtly.

There was a pause between the two Nords; the Stormcloaks that flanked Balgruuf fidgeted expecting a possible clash.

'' The Empire is no longer welcome in Skyrim Balgruuf, the same as you are no longer welcome here.'' Vignar growled slowly. Balgruuf gave a bark of laughter that held no amusement.

''Vignar you are a fool to think Skyrim can survive without the Empire.''

Vignar considered his words before answering ''The Empire I once knew is dead Balgruuf, I don't want my people ruled by puppets.''

''Your _people_,'' Balgruuf spat ''you mean the people who your Stormcloaks slaughtered? Whose blood now floods the streets and makes the air sick?''

''They were not sons or daughters of Skyrim, if they aren't with us they are against us.'' Rebutted a thick gravelly voice behind Balgruuf, turning his head Balgruuf's eyes narrowed at Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric Stormcloak's second in command.

''Those were _true_ sons and daughters of Skyrim. They didn't cut down their kinsmen over your stupid war. They wanted no part in the violence, they wanted peace and what do you do?'' The man hesitated, trying to recompose himself. His voice was cold and hard. ''_You slaughter them_ _like cattle_. If Ulfric thinks he can simply kill the people who don't agree with him then he is wrong. True sons and daughters of Skyrim wouldn't stand under the banner of a man who happily slaughters his own kinsmen for his own political gain!''

Vignar simply looked back at the younger man, his face impassive. His arms crossed across his chest, he shook his head slowly and side stepped the former Jarl. Balgruuf growled and muttered a single curse at the Stormcloaks before he was led through Dragonsreach's doors for the last time.

...

Lianna heard a woman's scream in her ears and realised it was her own. She writhed in pain against the cold hard floor. Blue electricity was rocketing through every nerve of her body making each one burn and pop with agony. Two elves stood over her, one was using his spark magic to torture the woman that twisted and lurched on the floor. The other had been asking the Breton questions about the Blades, namely their whereabouts.

Lianna felt the white hot pain subside as the elf lowered him hands stopping the stream of blue light. The girl's muscles twitched and occasional crackles of sparks could be heard.

''Where is Delphine.''

Lianna coughed, she tasted rusted metal in her throat. ''I don't know.'' She rasped.

There came an immediate explosion of new pain against her chest as she was sent skidding against the cold floor. The elf that had questioned her pressed his booted foot, gently this time, against her chest. There was a pause, silver eyes wild with panic and anguish, the elf merely smirked and brought his foot down with as much force as he could manage, there came the sickly satisfactory sound of breaking ribs coupled with an atrociously loud howl of pain from the woman.

''Liar.''

Lianna pulled her chained hands to her sunken and deformed side. Her face was damp with sweat and tears. Out of her mouth arched the sound of a sob. She couldn't hang on for much longer.

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><p><strong>Was the only one who felt like a bitch for taking Whiterun for the Stormcloaks? <strong>


	16. Monster

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Monster

How long had she been there? Years? Months? Weeks? She didn't know how many times she had been pulled from her cell and put through hell. She didn't take count of the times because...because counting the times they had tortured her would mean remembering each time, and that was something she couldn't do. It scared her to remember how they had tortured her. Hearing her own scream bouncing across the walls overpowering their constant questions. To relive every throbbing nerve and cell, to relive how her blood had spattered the floor, to relive how they had bent her arms to the point of snapping, to relive their whispered threats. No, it hurt far too much to remember.

As she lay, the cold floor damp from her piss pressing against her back, she stared to the ceiling above her, and quite suddenly in the darkness something occurred to her.

Never had the elves touched her. Never had their gold eyes burned with lust. Never had they whispered what they would do with her. Never had their breath been hot on her face. Never had they forced themselves between her legs. She supposed upstairs, a world away, they had their own golden women to give them ecstasies. Their long fingered women made of gold, dressed in finery, fat jewels hanging from their necks, their aurous hair spooling down their backs, their golden stares...Besides what was she to them anyway? Just a human, no worse, a half-breed human who sat in her own filth and blood hoping for death. After all, why waste energy on something so pitiful and revolting if gold waited for you?

...

Delphine pinned the Bosmer to the wall a snarl curled out from under her breath. The little elf's legs swung above the ground as his body trembled in the woman's grip.

''Listen you coward. I _need_ to get into the Thalmor Embassy.''

Malborn's eyes bulged as she repeated what she had said, fear stopping him from answering with the response he had given her only moments. The same response that now had him pinned to a wall by a dangerous Nord woman.

''Y-you d-d-don't just w-walk into-''

Delphine tightened her grip on the little man's shirt.

''I'm not looking to have tea and cake with them. I'm looking for someone who they have.'' She growled, there was a moment of stifled silence in which a small afterthought escaped the woman's lips ''A friend.''

''L-like I-I said y-you don't j-j-just walk-k-k in.'' Malborn gasped, squirming against her strong grip.

''I'll pay you.''

There was a flicker of greed in the elf's slanted eyes.

''And who might this friend be, how _important _are they to you?''

''Ever heard of the Dragonborn?''

...

There came a great amount of clamoring and commotion above their heads. There came the distant clash of swords and the quiet thundering of boots across the floor above them. Thirty pairs of wild eyes watched as down the stairs fell the clanging armoured body of an elf. Quickly followed by a Nord woman her eyes wild with battle, blood, more of the enemies than her own, splattered her face and her dark armour. Behind her came a timid elf dressed in mock finery.

The prisoner's pressed themselves against the bars their breath trapped in their throats. Their bright mad eyes watched as the Nord woman made her way to a cell. The third from the end, the one with the squeaky door. The blond woman opened the cell door and instantly recoiled away from the hunched over being inside. At first Delphine thought she was mistaken only when the Breton raised her head into the light did her gut roll and clench, it was indeed Lianna...but...

Her face was swollen with bruises. Her hair was a thick mess matted with blood. The rags she wore clung to her thin body sodden with her own excretions. The Dragonborn's eyes met Delphine's they flickered with recognition. A word rattled out of the girl's cut lips

''Delphine.''

Malborn stepped inside the cell. He crouched before the girl, he unlocked the chains around her wrists they fell the floor with a loud clang. Delphine watched as the elf pressed a golden hand to the girl's face, arms, legs, abdomen.

''Malborn, be quick just enough to get her to her feet.'' Delphine hissed.

''By the nine they did a number on you Breton.'' Malborn whispered softly as he pressed a glowing hand to the girl's ribs. Lianna simply sat watching him heal her, the ghost of happiness and relief shimmering in her eyes.

There came the distant sound of raised voices, slowly the noise of clanging feet echoed ominously down the steps. Delphine grabbed the hilt of her sword and drew it with a well trained motion.

''Malborn get the kid, we've got company.''

Delphine felt something akin to fear as four armored elves stood in front of her. Swallowing her fear she raised her sword and with a swift motion impaled her blade through the nearest elf's stomach. As the impaled elf's last gurgled breaths passed his lips Delphine looked up and felt terror clutch her spine as three magic and sword wielding elves leapt towards her.

She staggered back in shock as a blur of motion collided with the elves knocking them into the air. Lianna stood over them fire burning furiously from her hands, her eyes were wild a strange smile on her lips. Delphine watched the Breton as fire exploded out from her palms.

Lianna felt pleasure. She felt a sensation of happiness unfurl in her gut as she burned them. She continued to burn their bodies long after their frenzied screams had fallen silent, long after their bodies had twisted and contorted from the heat of the flames. It was when their bodies had began to turn to ash that she felt arms pull her back, pull her back from insanity. Her arms were held firmly to her side.

''Kid it's alright, it's done now. It's all over.'' A voice hummed in ear.

Lianna looked down at the twisted mangled blacked remains of the elves she had burned. She dropped to her knees, tears fell from her eyes. She had found pleasure in their pained cries, it had been sickeningly gratifying hearing their screams appose to hers. Her stomach rolled and the girl vomited. She was disgusting, she had found pleasure in their pain. She was a monster. A hand gently rubbed her back as she retched.

''Malborn we need to move. Only more of them will come.''

The scent of burning flesh and vomit was heavy in her nose and mouth. Again the girl retched, when she was done she felt a tug on her arm she didn't respond.

''She won't move.'' There came a exasperated sigh.

Lianna felt herself being hoisted up, her arms found themselves around a neck and her legs against hips. Ah, she was being carried. Her body swayed and lurched against Delphine's back she let a small groan escape her lips.

Suddenly the air became clean in Lianna's mouth and lungs it was cold and crisp and tasted like honey. Fresh air.

''I swear to Talos kid, if you vomit on me you're walking.''

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><p>I don't know why but I'm really chuffed with this chapter :3 I think I had far too much fun writing it haha!<p>

~Marie.


	17. Keep It Together Little Dovah

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Keep It Together Little Dovah

_''Tell us what you know, little bitch.'' Growls the elf. _

_All is dark. _

_Lianna feels the mer's hot breath in her ear. _

_She is pinned to the ground held firmly by the elf's weight. _

_Her eyes met his. _

_Silver and gold hold each other, both sparkling and glittering in the darkness. _

_She spits at him. _

_There is swift deft movement from the elf. _

_Her head fizzes and buzzes as his curled fist cracks across her face._

_There comes a snap, broken nose._

_The elf doesn't relent. He is enjoying himself._

_She struggles beneath him, thrashing and flailing. But he is heavier than her._

_She claws madly at his face, mouth, eyes. _

_He strikes her again and again._

_She feels the pain, raw and unbearable as it stretches across her skull. _

_Blood becomes heavy and thick in her mouth. It tastes like metal._

_''Lianna,'' whispers a voice between their blows. _

_She feels a hand against her. It is gentle and kind._

_She opens her eyes; she looks above the elf who continues to drive his fists against her swollen skin. _

_There is light dripping down the walls. It is golden and warm._

_''Lianna, wake up.'' Comes the voice again louder, nearer._

_The light collides with her. _

The woman opened her eyes. She was soaked with sweat and shivering, the room was bathed with golden light. Perhaps she was dead. She felt the softness of a bed under her, a quilt over her. A shadow blocked the golden light from hitting her face. The hooded man had a hand on her shoulder.

She opened her mouth and screamed.

...

Delphine closed the dossier with a disgruntled sigh; she let it fall off her lap to the stone cold floor. She picked up another, one of the many that she had not yet gone through. As she started to leaf through the pages she casted a glance to the sleeping woman she was sat besides.

The little Breton had woken screaming with Farengar standing over the poor woman, the Nord simply trying to wake her from the nightmares that plagued her. Between her shaking sobs and her desperate scrabbles at his hands, the Nord mage had somehow managed to pour a sleeping potion into the girl's mouth and now she slept as deeply as a child. The golden light from a single candle on the bedside table illuminated the room just enough for Delphine to skim the words on the documents and papers she had stolen from the Thalmor Embassy. But so far the documents had been worthless; she had found nothing about the dragons at all.

Suddenly there came a creak from the bed, Delphine looked up from the pages to see the Dragonborn sitting up. The Breton's hair was a long mass of thick tangles and knots, it was dyed a warm burnt sugar thanks to the candle light. Her face was no longer marked with bruises or cuts, Farengar had healed the woman completely on their sudden arrival. Her grey eyes took in the room, they rolled up the walls, followed the wooden floor boards and took note of the objects that filled the room, there was a shadow of recognition in the Breton's eyes. There was something new in the Breton's eyes, something Delphine did not notice, her silver eyes are uncertain and fearful, haunted.

''Where're in Dragonsreach.'' Delphine said her voice cutting through the heavy silence. Lianna turned quickly to the Nord who was sat to the side of the bed in a fine chair, papers and books littered her lap and the floor around her. Farengar's words to her echoed in her ears, _''There are some wounds that not even magic can heal.''_

''Why?'' Lianna croaked, her voice was thick, her tongue heavy and slow in her dry mouth.

''I couldn't risk going back to Riverwood, not without knowing how much information you divulged to the Thalmor.''

Lianna's brow knitted together. ''I didn't tell them anything.''

''Good,'' Delphine handed the woman a tankard of water, Lianna drank from it deeply ''The Thalmor wouldn't dare march into a hold that belongs to the Stormcloaks.'' Lianna chocked on the icy water, she coughed and her eyes flew to the Nord woman.

''The Stormcloaks took the city about three weeks ago.''

''Delphine, how...how long was I in...in...'' Lianna's voice shakes.

''Just over a month.''

...

The water thundered over her as she stared down at her open palms. The shower had gotten unbearably hot, scaldingly painful, But Lianna didn't move away from the blistering bullets of heat. Her hair was slick and heavy plastered to her back, the water pelted her head, it glided down the curve of her neck it ran slowly off her breasts and plummeted to the floor. She had counted six new scares on her body. The first, starting from the back of her neck arcing down to just above her collar bone._ A hot blade was pushed to neck._ The second, a slim line across her hip bone. _Thick leather struck clean across her skin._ The third, a long stroke of pink under her left breast _''Tell us you filthy half-breed.'' a glimmer of a blade, a ribbon of blood._ The fourth, a thick ribbon beginning below her belly button descending diagonally stopping against the solid bone of her hip. _They're just slashing now, not even asking her questions, just cutting. Her screams shake the walls. _The fifth and sixth, slithers that start on the inside of each wrist and peter out half way along the soft flesh. _The chains are heavy and pierce her skin._

She balled her hands and struck the wall, again and again.

_Useless. Fucking Useless.  
><em>

She could get clean all she wanted, she could scrub till her skin became raw and red. She could never wash away their words, the pain, the fear, the horror. Her hand unfurled against the smooth wall. She slid down the wall to the floor, sobs rolled out of her body as she clung to herself. The water battered the curled ridged rope of her spine. Fat worms of her dark sodden hair fall in front of her eyes and face, Lianna buried her head in her knees and sobbed.

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><p>Don't know why, but this chapter was giving me trouble : Lianna's suffering from Posttraumatic stress disorder so, yeah she's gonna be mucked up for a bit, sorry Lianna :(

If you ask nicely I might upload another chapter today :)


	18. Fool

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Fool

Lianna pulled on her new mages robes; they were a different colour blue and brown rather than the muted gold and green of her old robes. They had been left out for the woman while she had showered, the new robes came as a pleasant surprise to the Breton, after all she could no long wear her old robes, they had more than likely immediately thrown out anyway. The new robes felt different, as if it had more power and magic between each stitch.

''Enjoy your shower?'' Lianna froze, having walked back into her room she found the last person she wanted to see stretched out on the bed, arms behind her head and legs crossed. The picture of ease.

''How did you get in here Gaila?''

The hooded woman laughed ''_Please_, its Dragonsreach not a maximum security prison.''

Lianna gave an irritated click of her tongue. She would have to tell the new Jarl (whoever he was) that his security needed to be improved. Gaila sat up quickly she repositioned herself so her legs dangled off the side of the bed, she swung them like a child might do.

''What's eating you?'' Lianna's eyes narrowed. She had folded her arms across her chest and was staring at Gaila with an incredulous look.

''You said you wouldn't hand me over to the Thalmor.''

''And I didn't,'' She raised her hand to silence to Breton who was about to interject ''It isn't my fault if you were careless enough to get yourself caught.''

''You're supposed to protect me.'' Lianna snapped.

Gaila laughed without humour ''If you think I'm there to hold your hand Lianna then you've obviously misunderstood our relationship. I'm not here to watch over you and save the day if you do something stupid. I'm not here to pick up and dust off your knees every time you fall down. My _job _is to watch you and not get involved, I'm purely here to keep an eye on you, nothing more.''

''So you were there the whole entire time a-and you did _nothing!_''

Gaila shrugged her shoulders ''Spies are the spectators of life Lianna. We simply slip whispers into the player's ears.''

Lianna threw the woman a look a disgust ''Don't use _we. _I'm nothing like you, you're disgusting.'' Gaila shrugged her shoulders, beneath her hood she was smiling slightly.

''Whatever makes you sleep better at night Lianna.''

Lianna pinched the bridge of her nose ''I suppose you're here for a reason.''

''Clever girl,'' Gaila purred in a voice that was nothing other than patronizing. Lianna suppressed a growl ''I need you to go to Windhelm and get some information, now the Stormcloaks have Whiterun they are that much more dangerous.''

Lianna raised an eyebrow ''I thought the Empire considered the Stormcloaks nothing more than a distraction.''

''They did, and that is why Whiterun fell. Never underestimate an enemy, no matter how big or small he is.''

Lianna shook her head slowly ''How am I supposed to get this information anyway? I can't just walk in there and start snooping.''

Gaila was smirking fiercely beneath her hood ''Just spin some old wives tale; I'm sure you'll think of something. Besides they already see you as an ally so they shouldn't think much of you being there, just don't be stupid and get yourself caught.''

Gaila rose from the bed with amazing fluency she strode towards the door and pulled it open, before she stepped through however she turned to the Breton.

''Oh and Lianna, try not to break anyone's nose this time.''

...

''What do you mean I'm Thane?''

''I feared Balgruuf hadn't taken the time to tell you.''

Lianna stood before the new Jarl Vignar Grey-Mane; he was easily slouched in the throne as if he had been there all his life. Lianna felt a slightly guilty at the old man's words, it had been namely her fault she hadn't been told, she had been away from Whiterun the almost constantly after the dragon attack. She felt even heavier guilt and shame at being captured before being able to worn Balgruuf of the Stormcloak's attack, if she had been more prudent, maybe it could have been Balgruuf sat in the throne telling this to her, scolding her playfully for forgetting the city for other more interesting endeavours.

Vignar was resting his head on his fist; his old eyes clouded slightly with cataracts looked the woman over before he spoke again. ''It isn't normal procedure that a Thane retains their position after a change of Jarl, but I believe this will have to be an exception. After all if you hadn't been at the watch tower that day, this fair city and I might not be before you this present day.''

Lianna gave the Jarl what she hoped was a gracious smile. Vignar seemed like a competent man, but she had to admit, she missed the fatherly nature of Balgruuf's council.

''Thank you sir.'' The old man chuckled, it was thick and raspy.

''Please you are a Thane, you're not part of the common rabble, call me Vignar.'' Something about the old man reminded her of her grandfather; her heart ached at that thought. ''As a Thane you shall be appointed a Housecarl, Lydia''

Lianna shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. ''Thank you for the offer Vignar, but I fear I attract too much trouble, to bring another amongst that...I'd be thankful if Lydia remained in your counsel.''

Vignar smiled softly at the young woman. She was...different to his other Thanes, decidedly more humble and cautious.

''Whatever you believe is best Lianna.''

...

_She is stares up at their evil faces._

_They sneer down at her._

_She pleads them to stop._

_They laugh._

_Blue light buzzes in their hands._

_She opens her mouth and screams._

_The blue fizzing energy jumps into the blackness towards her._

Lianna sat up gripping her sheets, gasps wheezed out of her throat. Her skin was damp with her sweat; her eyes searched the darkness for _them_. Her fears were irrational and uncompressible and far away inside a tiny nook of brain she knew it. The dark stillness of the room calmed her and for a moment she relaxed. _Creak! _Without any rational thought Lianna bolted clean out of her bed, she fell to floor and scrabbled desperately across the floor to the door. She leant against the door handle gasping waiting for _them _to make another move. She doesn't dare open her eyes, fearing that _they _are there smirking at her in the darkness. She was shaking so fiercely that the door shuddered in its frame. She imagined _them_ now, _they _are sat on her bed watching her laughing, _they_ slowly rise from her bed and step towards her, _their _gold boots clunking loudly on the floor, and suddenly _their _breath is hot on her neck.

She threw all of her body weight against the door; she slammed it quickly behind her trapping nobody behind her. She ran blindly down the hallway to a source of light, it is distant and _safe_. Suddenly from behind her Lianna heard _them _coming down the corridor after her. She turned to looked behind her; _they _are there in gleaming golden armour, a silent scream fell from her lips. She ran at full sprint towards the warm light and she bursts into the archway of the kitchen the hot fire alive and crackling. But that doesn't matter because _they're _right besides her; _they're _smiling in victory, _they _step towards her. _They _draw their golden swords and then _they _raise them above _their heads_. And then, and then...

''Lianna?'' Delphine shook the girl by the shoulders. ''Are you alright?'' The older woman's face was thick with concern.

Lianna gaped at the Nord breath catching in her throat, fat tears fell tumbled down a well tracked path down her cheeks ''Can't you-Don't you-_They're_ right there.''

Delphine looked over the girl's shoulder, down the silent pitch black corridor. ''Lianna what are you talking about?'' Lianna was incredulous her breath was slipping down her throat in panic. Delphine's lip straightened into a line of determination ''Alright kid, stay put. I'll be back.''

Delphine drew her sword and vanished into the darkness of the corridor. Lianna didn't move, breath, blink, any moment now she would her Delphine's battle cry and the clashing of steel. It felt like a year had passed when Delphine finally re-enter to kitchen, Lianna's eyes swam with confusion, Delphine was not covered in blood, her sword was drawn, her hair was smooth and her skin unmarked, it looked like she hadn't been in battle at all...but that would mean she had imagined it all...

''No one there kid.'' Lianna gave a squeak of disbelief and her hands suddenly fly to her face as she sobbed.

Delphine uncomfortably beckoned the sobbing girl to sit in front of the fire place with her. It was here that Delphine had continued the task of going through all the documents she had stolen. There Nord offered the Breton had mug of hot wine, the shaking girl clutched it tightly as she knelt before the fire. Delphine watched the girl as she sipped the spiced contents. _Poor kid. Those bastards put her through hell. _

The Nord woman didn't know what to do with herself, part of herself was telling her to hug and comfort the girl. Another part (the Nord in her) was telling her to slap the girl firmly on the back and tell her that she was just being dramatic. Settling for some sort of medium Delphine picked up some papers and cracked a tired smile.

''Well, at least I have someone to keep me company.''

Lianna gave a dejected sniff as she sipped the hot blood red wine.

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><p>Awh Delphine you're really not the motherly type :L<p>

I think I ran away with myself a bit but, I can honestly say that when I was a little kid (and sometimes now even) that i would wake up from a bad dream and then just get myself really scared and run into my mum and dad's room, they did not appreciate it :L

Don't worry Lianna will get better just not right now...give it a few more chapters and another encounter with Ulfric 3

Since I'm off college for the rest of the week expect another chapter tomorrow :)


	19. Well that's unexpected

****I promise next chapter will be much longer...

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Well that's unexpected

The dawn sun was beginning to slither through the windows into the kitchen, though the two women who were sat on the floor surrounded by papers and documents didn't notice. Mugs, their contents long since drunk, glinted and winked as the light bounced on their silver surface, little silver gleaming boulders in a sea of papers. A yawn escaped the older woman's mouth for she had been at this task longer than her helper.

''Who's Esbern?''

Delphine's head cracked up from her own dossier ''What?'' There was a look of disbelief in her eyes. Lianna threw the dossier to the blonde woman who caught with ease. Delphine read the pages, her eyes were moving with dizzying speed.

''By the nine! The old bastard's alive!'' Delphine whispered ''He's been alive all this time!''

''And he is who exactly?''

There was a small sad smile on the woman's lips ''He was a Blade back in the day, we all thought he was insane spouting his dragon nonsense. ''I thought the Thalmor must have gotten him, if we find him and convince him to join us we could find out what's bringing the dragons back.''

''_If_? Surely he'll want to join the Blades again?''

Delphine chuckled ''If you manage to convince him that you're telling the truth. He's likely a paranoid mess after hiding away all these years.''

''Were do you think he's been hiding away all of these years?''

''Probably Riften, in the Ratway, it's where I would go if I need to go into hiding.''

''Well we've got to go then. Before the Thalmor find him.''

Delphine's brow creased, the Dragonborn's mental stability was questionable and to allow her to go traipsing around Skyrim was risky, but letting an invaluable ally slip through her fingers was a bigger risk.

The Dragonborn or Esbern.

''Kid get your stuff packed, you're going to Riften.''

...

_Well a very least I can kill two birds with one stone. _Lianna thought as she stepped through Windhelm's amber doors. The constant falling snow stuck in the young Bretons hair and melted, causing chilled droplets to trickle down her neck. She winded through the throng of citizens, traders and soldiers, her target Candlehearth Hall. Suddenly there came a voice shouting above the crowd.

''Delphinia.'' Lianna's ear grew hot and she quickly moved to the thicker part of the crowd. She didn't dare turn around, maybe there was someone else in the crowd with that name. Maybe, just maybe. She closed her eyes and prayed that the world would swallow her up. Of any the places they could have found her in it had to be _here. _She heard the jostling of the crowd around her, _Hey! __Sorry. Watch it! Excuse me. _Panic suddenly moved her feet, she ran through the thick wall of people away from that voice which was so terrifyingly familiar.

''Delphinia! Wait!''

Her feet pound the stone street as she broke out of the crowd, her breath exploded out in front of her in a thick white fog. Another pair of feet pounded the black stone not far behind her. _Dear Gods, please let him be a stranger. Please. _Suddenly her arm was grabbed and pulled back, she stilled instantly, this man was no direct threat to her.

''Delphinia. Why do you run sister?''

_Gods above, there is so much relief and _disappointment_ in his voice._ Lianna thought as she caught her breath. She turned slowly to face her brother an uneasy smile upon her lips.

''Adair.''

Her brother had grown massively from the lanky sixteen year old that she remembered him as. He was no longer a squeaky voiced teen, but a tall dark haired man close to his twenty seventh summer. Adair was unusually tall for a Breton, he could have passed for a Nord if he had been slightly thicker, and not had the soft facial features and high arching eyebrows that were common among his race.

He pulled her into a hug surprising her, she expected him to berate her about running away from her family and her responsibilities. A pleasant surprise, his armour was painful cold as they embraced but she didn't care. It was simply wonderfully to embrace her brother after so many years apart. He pulled away and held her at arm's length and looked her dead in the eye.

''Look at the fine woman you have become Del, Mum would be proud.'' He was beaming down at her and she couldn't help but beam back. His smile receded slowly ''Now what is this business about you running away the night before your wedding sister?'' His voice was serious ''Do you not know how much we worried for you.''

''Brother I can explain.''

''It better be a bloody good one Del. Imagine your older brother coming home after ten years for his little sister's wedding, only to arrive to find the bride in question missing.''

Suddenly the air grew heavy; there came an ear splittingly loud roar that seemed to shatter the sky. Brother and sister watched eyes wide as a dragon dropped from the sky and landed on the city walls. There was a single moment of terrified silence from the helpless people around them as they looked up into the eyes of their maker.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

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><p>May or may not upload chapter 20 tomorrow, I don't know why but my motivation as been really low lately :(<p>

PS. Ulfric Sexycloak will appear finally appear next time. Maybe the lack of Ulfric is the cause of my low motivation hhmmm...eh *shrug* all I know is right now I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Night guys.


	20. Dovahkiin

Guess what I found out today? Delphine isn't a Nord she's a Breton. Well damn :I Am I gonna call her a Breton? Nope. Why? She's a Nord to me and to be honest I'm not changing it this far in as it's far too much effort for something so small. And more importantly its Delphine and she's a bitch so yeah can't say I care much about her.

On to another note, 1. You guys are the best honestly I just wanna give you all hugs :) 2. I took the wonderful advice and played some Skyrim stalked Ulfric and found some pictures of him and I must say it is not possible to get bored of his face or voice :3 And my muse? Burning brightly I bet your all glad to hear :D

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Dovahkiin

...

_Dragonborn Dragonborn_  
><em>By his honor is sworn<em>  
><em>To keep evil forever at bay<em>  
><em>And the fiercest foes rout<em>  
><em>When they hear triumph's shout<em>  
><em>Dragonborn for your blessing we pray<em>

_Song of the Dragonborn_

_..._

''My Jarl, the trap is ready.'' Reported a Stormcloak, the man's fear was evident his face was shining with nervous sweat and his voice trembled.

''Good Lieutenant. Make sure you and the men are also ready.'' The Lieutenant saluted and turned marching down the steps away from the Palace of the Kings pressed to the wall, keeping to the shadows.

Ulfric watched as the dragon flew over the city frost exploding from its jaws scattering the few who were stupid or brave enough to stay in the open streets. Ulfric ran a hand through his hair, he was thankful that Jorleif had persuaded him to prepare a plan of action if a dragon was ever to attack, the only problem was the plan was sketchy and details had been left unthought of, which now left them with the terrifying prospect of playing the majority of their enormous task by ear. Ulfric had rushed into battle before as a rash blood hungry youth and had learned the consequences of poor planning, but he wasn't a Captain anymore, with only a handful of men under his charge that would have gladly died during the roar of battle. He was a Jarl, he had a city to protect, women and children, innocents who knew nothing of death and the raw energy of battle. He allowed none of these worries to seep through onto his face, he could not afford to appear fearful he would be as stone-faced as always, if he was to show fear then it would only worsen the moral of the ranks. Again he ran his hand through his hair, a habit that often surfaced when something troubled him, his action did not go unnoticed by his second.

''Nervous?'' Growled Galmar, the man had Ulfric's friend for many winters and so knew simply from Ulfric's subtle jesters the Jarl's emotions. Something that Ulfric was secretly thankful of, when one had to be so composed and calm at all times it was reassuring to have someone who understood him easily without having to drop the front.

''We are about to dance with death. With a plan so thin and weak it could be compared with thread.''

''We've been in tighter spots.''

''Yes, but we were young and flirted with life. We were against men, not a dragon. This is different game entirely.''

''Men, mere, dragon they're all the same. They all fall to my blade.''

Ulfric allowed a twitch of a smirk ''Brash old bear.'' Galmar snorted. Both men watched as the pale beast roared above their heads, ice tumbled out of it's mouth encasing whatever was in its path with thick sheets of transparent sparkling ice. The monster was seemingly restless about having no moving targets to turn into icicles and so was taking its anger out on the black stoned city. Ulfric wondered how many hundreds of eyes were watching from dark alcoves and behind doors as their home was ravaged with ice. Galmar shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, Galmar was a man that lived for the painful embrace of warfare and battle, he was a man with much pride. Ulfric silently agreed with his second, being pressed into the shadows pinned down waiting for a signal to jump into action in your own city chafed more than a little.

''Any idea, of how were actually going to get the damn thing into position.'' Galmar's eyes never left the beast that glided with ease above their heads.

''Yes, but I fear you'll be against it.'' Ulfric responded

''We're being pinned down, unable to move by a beast that has bigger bollocks than brains. I'm fully open to any ideas.''

''It will involve luring the beast. To where we can incapacitate it.''

''Your best plan is live bait?'' Galmar hissed.

''Do you have a better proposal?''

''No but who is stupid enough to throw them-.'' Galmar's eyes widened in alarm ''No. Ulfric, have you lost all sense!''

''It _has_ to be me Galmar. Do you know anybody else in this city who can shout?''

Galmar huffed ''As much as the role of hero must appeal to you Ulfric, haven't you thought of the consequences if this shit excuse for a plan is to fail? If you were to die?''

''I have.'' Ulfric's voice was grave and serious. ''I have envisaged wives wailing for their lost husbands, children weeping for their dead parents, lovers holding each other waiting for death...This plan could fail, but it is our only option.''

''I another life you could have been a poet with such profound words.'' Ulfric scoffed softly, far below them in a dark alleyway a soldier stepped out of the shadow of an alcove and signaled. So it was to begin.

...

''FUS RO DAH!''

Ulfric's ears popped and the ground trembled under his boots. The pale dragon shuddered and staggered, growling in frustration it's blood red eyes staring the Jarl down with contempt and rage. ''_NOW!'' _Ulfric bellowed, there came the shriek of metal chains and suddenly long vines of chain were thrown into the air. They looped under the wings of the beast and around its neck. The great winged lizard roared and thrashed against it's restraints, Ulfric prayed to Talos that the men would be able to hold the beast in place long enough for them to ends it's life. The dragon threw back it's great head and roared it sounded almost pained, small spouts of frost were spat into the air. The chains groaned and squealed under the pressure from both sides, Ulfric, his heart in his mouth, watched as the Stormcloaks slowly lost their ground against the dragon. Their feet were being dragged alone the black stones and failing to find any grip on the slick stone beneath them, they were left floundering on the chains losing to dragon's far superior strength.

Then came a sound that made Ulfric's gut clench. _Clink! Clink! Clink! _The chains were popping apart.

There came a roar of triumph from the dragon as it thrashed it's one free wing.

''Hold it strong men!'' The words died in the air before the Nord as he watched the dragon free it's other wing. It now reared back roaring to the sky, the chain around it's neck rippled and was flung, along with those who hadn't let go in time, into the air their screams echoed in the Jarls ears. The dragon dropped down into front of the Jarl a chilling smile on it's scaled lips. Ulfric grabbed his axe from his waist, he'd be damned if the dragon was going to eat him without a fight. Ulfric could hear a roar in his ears from the Stormcloaks that were still standing but he let it dull in his ears as he met eyes with the dragon that stood over him.

Then quiet suddenly there came a whistling sound. Ulfric watched wide eyed as a black object flew into the side of the dragons head. The sound when the two connected was that of shattering stone. The dragon snarled and shook it's great near white head, nothing more than a slight irritation. Then there came the whistling sound again it was louder this time. Four black stones collided with the dragon's skull, this time the dragon roared in pain as the sound of shattering bone coupled with that of the cracking stone. Ulfric's eyes followed the direction from which the stones had been flung, at the very top of a street to his right was a mage. Around the mage six black stones hung in the air, Ulfric watched with mild awe as the mage raised their arms, the bricks hovered higher into the air that was thick with swirling snow. Suddenly the mage threw their arms down and forward, the bricks whizzed through the air with such blinding speed they connected again with their target near instantly. Crashing into the monster's body and head, the dragon ripped back it's head and bellowed a great roar and turned quickly to face it's attacker. There was a almost peaceful silence as the two locked eyes.

''Come Dovah!'' The mage shouted, the voice was that of a woman. The dragon growled as it took in the human, completely forgetting the Jarl and his men the dragon lunged down the street on it's lumbering legs and strange armed wings.

...

Lianna leapt back out of the street, she pressed herself against the freezing stone of a building. Her heart was pounding so powerfully in her chest it threatened to explode out of her ribs and skin. Her eyes turned to the left to see Adair much like her pressed to a building the street separating them. Her brother's eyes were wild with fear. Her skin prickled as she heard the dragon at the top of the street. Neither Breton breathed as the long pale head of dragon came into their peripheral vision, the dragon was slow, its eyes searching for it's assailant. Lianna met eyes with her brother over the beast head that was hovered but feet off the ground. Lianna watched as her brother soundlessly unsheathed the great sword that was strapped to his back, Lianna's hand found her hip were she slipped the dagger from it's hilt. Their eyes met again both trembling as they held the metal in their fist, both moved in unison fluid like water. The dragon turned it's head quickly to the left to the little Breton woman clutching a dagger, the woman froze as soon as their eyes locked. The dragon roared and lunged and instantly feels burning searing white hot pain in it's left eye. Adair dove his sword into the over grown lizard's eye, black liquid and blood exploded out of the popped rolling ball. The dragon thrashed back away from the sword and in doing so it's milky neck collided with the woman behind it sending her tumbling to the ground like a rag doll. Lianna landed on her side, she felt something give in her arm put the adrenaline and Dovah blood was thick in her veins stopping any pain. Her dagger skittered across the paved streets out of her reach, as she scrambled to sit up she came face to face with the dragon.

It's snout was so very nearly pressed to her forehead, it's one good eye was dilated as it took in her shaking huddled form. It's other eye was left as a red weeping hole in it's head.

''Dovahkiin.'' The dragon rumbled, its voice was almost soft. It's breath was cold as it fanned Lianna's face, she attributed this to it being a Frost dragon. The woman might have screamed if her throat hadn't been so tight and dry. Adair dove forward snatching his sister around the waist and half pulled half carried her down away from the monster. Adair ran faster than his feet could manage causing him to almost trip and slide along the slick snow covered stone. Lianna flailed to her feet in her brother's grip, gripping his hand tightly the two ran blindly down the twisting alleyways. The city wall to their left and to their right suddenly there was a flood of light rather than the tall buildings and walls, they dove out into the open the dragon roaring and snapping left back behind them.

Their feet slowed as the realized where they were, the Palace of the Kings directly to their backs, and the city gates glowing brilliantly far in front of them. On either sides of them walls climb into the sky. Still clutching each other's hands, their knuckles white, their wheezing breath filled the air in front of them with soft clouds. There was a moment of silent jubilation between the two siblings. They were alive, maybe not for much longer, but that didn't matter because they were fucking _alive_. They had escaped from the jaws of death. Suddenly there came the unholy sound of crushing stone and the shattering of wood, the two Breton's watched mouths agape, as the dragon climbed over the houses crushing them beneath its weight. Roof tiles and bricks and wooden beams tumbled down around it as it scaled down the wall to stand before them growling, it's one good eye burning bright red.

''Dovahkiin slathalin ios dout vahlok.'' The beast roared above their heads. The whole city suddenly fell silent,still. Even the howling wind dropped to a soft fluttering breeze.

The two Breton's faces were ridged with fear, their mouths gaping open. _By the fucking nine. Dragons can talk, they can fucking talk. _Adair thought frantically. The dragon blinked it's one good eye down at them, before something like a smirk tugged at it's jaws.

''Ah, you Dovahkiin do not kampiun, understand the darastrix ooble, dragon language. How chevipsir, pitiful.'' Adair's jaw albeit nearly snapped off of his face out of shock. ''Slathalin, fight me Dovahkiin, without your chains and blades and your ways of jul, men. Slathalin like a dovah, use your thu'um and yol and iiz, fire and ice, the way we dovah are supposed to slathalin.''

Lianna's face was composed, ''You're not going to listen to him are you?'' Adair breathed, Lianna shrugged her shoulders.

''What am I supposed to do? Ignore the several tonne dragon before us, he has the decency to stop and talk.''

''Del, it's a fucking _dragon_. Not a person. And besides, I don't think it counts as decency when it has laid waste to a city before stopping and talking.''

''He has the decency to allow us to have this conversation just feet in front of him, rather than snapping us up between his jaws.''

As insane as her logic was, it was well, logical. ''I'm not leaving you Del, if you think for a second I am, then I'm not.''

Lianna gave a quiet sight ''Didn't you hear hi-''

''Of course I did, he's a dragon. And I'm not leaving my sister's side so that she can be eaten by an over grown lizard.''

''You do not trust the abilities of the Dovahkiin, kendov?'' the dragon growled swinging his head towards the Breton male.

''Get out off here Adair. You'll only get under our feet.'' Lianna's voice was dangerously low. Adrain grabbed his sister's arm.

''No, you hear me! Nothing you say will make me leave your side.'' Lianna turned so quickly it left the man dizzy, a wild snarl curled out of the woman's gritted teeth, her eyes were no longer the normal stormy grey, but a molten hot gold, her pupils were slithers. The woman had allowed the Dovah blood to take over her, she felt the power stirring in her blood. Adair's eyes widened, what had happened to his smiling sister? Now a beast burned in her eyes. ''Apart from that.'' The Breton man quickly recoiled from the woman who had moments ago been his sister. He had heard whispers of the Dragonborn while he had travelled through Skyrim, but he had never thought that his little baby sister could be the Dragonborn. As Adair turned away from his sister to a safe distance winding through tight alleyways he clambered over rubble and bodies and all the while his sister's wild golden eyes were burning into his brain.

...

Ulfric had gathered the men and had taken them a safe distance away from anymore danger. Now they were gathered in the stone quarter watching the events unfold before them. They had all listened eyes wide, not quite believing their ears as the dragon had addressed the mage and the man with her. The beast had used the word Dovahkiin, many of the men had given audible reactions of shock and relief that the Dragonborn was among them. They had watched their hearts in their mouths as the man retreated from the mage's side. Ulfric had ran a hand over his chin in mild amusement, so the Dragonborn was a woman mage, not the great sword wielding warrior the people had believed her to be. In another circumstance Ulfric would have laughed at the stupidity of their immediate judgment, but now was not time for laughter. They were about to witness two dragons fight.

The Nord watched as a wall of frost exploded out of the dragon's jaws, completely enveloping the mage. Ulfric's gut gave an involuntary clench, no man could survive such an attack so close, the ice would instantly freeze a heart and strangle organs in it's tight merciless grip. There came a golden glow from inside the torrent of ice, suddenly there came an explosion of fire that erupted out of the frost. The fire was so hot it rendered the ice around it to steam. The ground hissed loudly, the mage stood still as she had been befores small patches of fire still burning about her feet. The dragon had met it's match. The men around him let out a cheer of triumph; truly the Dragonborn was fighting for them. The dragon roared again and ice was flung from it's jaws again, the Dragonborn crouched forward quickly and drew her arms in front of her, a wall of crackling white hot fire exploded out from the stone ground. The fire and ice collided together with an almighty bang; it rang in Ulfric's ears as he watched the mage and the dragon trade violent elements.

The Dragonborn was fluid and confident in her movements and throws of firebolts, it looked like a strange over worldly dance as the two dealt deadly strikes. The dragon's movements were becoming lumbered and slow, it was slow to turn and attack the human, it appeared that the Stormcloak's trap hadn't been for nothing, the dragon's wings were limp and twisted. The mage let loose a flurry of fire that exploded on contact, the dragon roared back in pain. It lunged quicker than it had before and caught not only the men gathered in the stone quarter off guard but also the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn was flung into the air and landed feet away, her body skidded along the slick stones. The Dragonborn scrabbled desperately backwards along the ground away from the advancing beast. The woman stilled as the beast bent it's neck it lowered its head to hang above her her's, the beast's remaining eye rolled over the crouching figure. The dragon opened it's jaws and dived forward, the men around Ulfric roared loudly. _Move woman. Move. _Ulfric though desperately and then...

''FUS RO DAH!''

The very sky appeared to tremble at the force of the shout, the bellow echoed over the mountains and shook the houses around them. Ulfric couldn't help but feel a small bout of pride for the Dragonborn. The dragon staggered back, it's head swinging violently its eye spinning madly. The mage took her chance, she unleashed wave upon wave of white hot fire onto the dragon, she struck the air with her outstretched arm and out exploded flames, she did this without hesitation, she thrust her arms out one after the other, relentlessly. Far away as he was from the battle Ulfric felt the wave of heat crash into him with force. The woman was giving it everything she had. Quiet suddenly the woman dropped her arms, exhausted. Her wild eyes combed through the flames that licked the sky in front of her. Slow out of the fire rose a great shadow, as the fire relented around the dragon Ulfric saw the damaged body of the beast. It's scaled skin had been burnt off, ripped back. Leaving red dripping flesh, the beast face was a mixture of charred scales and burnt flesh, the weak beast let out a low growl. There was the sick unholy smell of burning flesh. Such power, such volatile energy.

The Nords watched as the dragon crawled along it's belly towards the mage, a soft hiss escaping it's blooded jaws. Their eye's all but popped out of their sockets as the Dragonborn stepped forward and pressed her hand to the dragon's nose. A soft growl rumbled out of the beasts throat, it almost sounded like a purr.

''Dovahkiin, I welcome the glory of dinok, death at your hands. You truly are a kriid, slayer of the dovah.''

The dragon closed it's eye and let out of loud _fuff_ of cold air. Lianna kept her open palm pressed to the beast's nose, she watched the skin begin to crackle and burn away, as the shards of scales fluttered into the air the clean pearl white skeleton was revealed. The wing bones were snapped and mangled, there were several large cracks on the beast skull, the spine was snapped and twisted and several ribs were mere jagged sharp stubs. The woman felt the rush of heat swim towards her body, she closed her eyes and took in the dragon's soul. Her hair fluttered around her face that was blackened with ash, sweat and blood. As the soul seeped into her, Lianna felt the pain beginning to chase up her arm and along her chest. Her whole body throbbed and rang with pain, she felt her knees give way beneath her. As she fell to the ground she heard the shouting of men behind her and the rush of feet. She felt arms wrap around her and pull her up. Her eyes opened for a moment, they met those of none other than Ulfric Stormcloak, who appeared just as surprised as her that he now held the woman. And then the darkness of exhaustion from the past few days pulled her down into the deep bottomless pool of unconsciousness, her vision blurred and all became black.

* * *

><p>I've never been more proud of something that I've written :) Honestly this chapter took me the best part of a day and a half to write. There won't be a new chapter until next week, because it's college as usual next week :(<p>

Please tell me what you think! I put my heart and soul into this chapter :3

~Marie 3


	21. Aftermath

**OhmygodOhmygodohmyfuckinggod! :O Do you KNOW how AMAZING all of you are? All of your reviews had me on a giddy high for a whole week! :D If you guys have any idea, how fuzzy i feel. I mean honestly *shakes head* I can't believe that you guys think so highly of something I wrote I mean, GAH! THANK YOU so much everyone, whether you reviewed, favorited, put an alert on this story or you're just reading. From the bottom of my heart, thanks :)**

**P.S. There might be an **exaggeration** of the population of Windhelm (a huge one compared with the game) but it's a major city and so would have a population at least in the hundreds, if not thousands.**

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Aftermath

The wounded lay in rows along the stone floor on thick bed rolls. Hours before, when the sun had been high in the grey sky, they had been carried into the temple and arranged along the floor. The pews had been pushed back against the walls, the exhausted priests and healers now slept on the hard wooden benches curled up in thick blankets. At first the healers had properly began to heal wounds with their glowing sparkling magic, but as the number of injured men, women and children that were carried, howling and dripping with blood, through their doors had only increased they had been resigned to simply heal the most life threatening injuries, broken bones were simply aligned with a splint and bandaged, and open wounds had been hurriedly stitched together with thick thread made of horses hair. So many had came through their doors begging for aid, many weren't injured but without homes and so came to the temple searching for safety. But they had not the room for them, so they had turned away the wounded and the homeless regretfully. It had been then that the Jarl had allowed the wounded and the displaced citizens, who had been turned away, into his palace. When the barracks had been filled they were placed in the many unused rooms, and when those had filled the finer rooms had been filled.

Now the exhausted healers lay breathing slow and deep, they were finally able to rest their exhausted bodies. The Temple echoed with the sound of snoring instead of hymns, only the occasional cry from a child followed softly by a whispered song of comfort from a mother, stabbed through the low rumble of sleep. Candles had been blown out and now the only light came from the moon that filtered through the stain glass windows. Purples, reds, blues and greens splintered and shattered against the floor, dyeing the mortals that they hit, turning them into something closer to art, rather than the living that trembled on that line between death and life.

The sound of soft and deliberately gentle foot falls bounced off the walls, a shadow fell over those who slept on the floor blocking the shards of beautiful colours from falling on their faces. The shadow travelled to the top of the aisle, to the altar. The man who owned the shadow knelt before the altar, he lightly gripped the Amulet of Talos that hung around his neck, the only finery he constantly carried on his person, and uttered a quiet prayer under his breath. The prayer said, he rose and turned and stood at the top of the aisle looking at his people. He was normally still and stoic, composed and professional. There in the darkness he allowed the wall to drop and crumble, night's shroud hid the bitter melancholic expression that held the Nord's face, what had become of his city? How could one beast cause so much devastation? Many good soldiers had been lost in the dragon attack as well as wives, mothers and children. Homes had been destroyed, crushed and twisted to become rubble on the ground and the death sentence for those unfortunate enough to have been trapped by their own walls and floors and belongings. He allowed a terrible thought to enter his mind, what if the Dragonborn hadn't appeared when she had? His city would have destroyed, his people slaughtered and he would have died alongside them, fighting for his city and for his people.

A small flicker of anger lightened his blue eyes as his eyes fell on a woman holding her child. Both were peaceful and calm, as if their lives weren't in danger, as if they would wake in the morning and live life like they had before. But they couldn't; the wounded lining the floors, the shattered buildings, the destroyed lives, all of it could have been avoided if the Dragonborn had shown herself earlier. He quickly shook off the spiteful feeling, guilty that he had even indulged the thought. His feelings were irrational; the Dragonborn had saved them, saved them from further death and misery. For that he was thankful, he couldn't fault her on her actions, after all it had been his plan that had failed, not the Dragonborn's. He was, if anything, more to blame for this than she.

His musing was cut short, his peripheral vision caught the flicker of movement, a figure weaved their way through the sleeping men, women and children towards him. The shards of coloured light illuminated the figure; she was dressed in orange flowing robes and moved with the grace and ease akin to a dancer. She stood before him and her eyes met his in the darkness, a smile tugged at her lips and she pressed a hand to his shoulder.

''Jarl Ulfric, go back to the palace and rest, there is nothing you can do here.'' The old Priestess whispered, there was a mothering tone to her hushed and withered voice._ Nothing you can do. _Ulfric mulled the thought uncomfortably in his mind for a moment, indeed there was nothing he could do for these people, unless he suddenly found a hidden talent in restoration magic, which was about as likely as happening as him and Tullius sitting down for dinner together.

The Jarl's only response was a slow and somewhat disheartened ''Aye.'' He stepped down the aisle with as much softness as before. Before opening the heavy doors he whispered a quiet prayer. Once outside he stood on the temple steps for a moment breathing in the chilling night air, burning away the sweet smelling incense from his nostrils and thick silver coat. He thumped down the steps, his boots sure and confident on the ice. A Nord met him at the bottom of the steps, though his face didn't show it, his crossed arms gave away the slight irritation at having to wait.

''If you felt the need to wait for me, it could have been inside.''

Galmar scoffed ''Bah, and wake everyone with my heavy lumbering steps? No, I would rather face a bitter wind than a sharp tongue of a Priest.'' Though the bear-skinned Nord was indeed correct, his feet were by no means quiet and controlled. There was another reason that the man wouldn't step inside the temple, or any temple for that matter. Though he of course believed in Talos, much like every self respecting Nord. But he unlike others, solely kept his prayers for his bedroom, were he would kneel at the end of his bed and utter quiet words to Talos and the Divines. The older man hadn't set foot inside a Temple for many a winter. Despite being life-long friends, Galmar had never disclosed to Ulfric as to why he never set foot inside a holy building. Ulfric had never shown any desire to know or understand his second's actions, after all each man did what he did differently to the next and besides they both had their own secrets and ways private to the world.

The two men began to ascend the steps towards the Palace of the Kings; they marched in easy tandem of each other. The snow howled at their backs and lodged itself in their beards.

''I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't had seen it with my own eyes.''

''What?'' Ulfric asked turning his head to face the older man.

''That the Dragonborn is a Breton, a little lass like that would be better as a man's wife than the Dragonborn.''

''Aye, the Gods certainly work in mysterious ways.'' Ulfric said dryly.

They stepped inside the Palace of the Kings, the delicious heat and warmth of the palace welcomed them as they made their way down the main hall towards the war room. Once inside the war room they were greeted by the sight of an exhausted Wuunferth sat unceremoniously in a chair. Wuunferth was a Nord of restraint and composure, but now it seemed he was so spent that he had no care for the correct etiquette and composure that he normally possessed. The Jarl and his second sat besides the mage, none of the men spoke, a pensive silence held the three men as they ran over the day's events in their minds.

''We mustn't show any weakness. Tullius will certainly try and use this dragon attack to his advantage and try and take back Whiterun.''

''Ha. If Tullius thinks he can take back Whiterun just because we've been knocked off of our feet he's deluding himself.'' Galmar replied.

''It doesn't mean he won't try and take that chance.''

''Don't worry the men won't falter. Not even a dragon attack will make the men lose their courage,'' Galmar's eyes hardened ''not while there is still breath in my lungs, and an axe in my hands.''

Galmar's constant determination and audacity never failed to amaze and amuse Ulfric. It was men like Galmar that Skyrim needed, especially now. The momentarily grin dropped as Ulfric was reminded again of the dragon attack. If one dragon could bring a major city to its knees in not even a full afternoon then they truly commanded unimaginable power. And if the Dragonborn could bring down a dragon in not even in a full hour...Ulfric's brain fizzed with the excitement of the possibilities of having the Dragonborn under his banner. Speaking of the Dragonborn...

''What of the Dragonborn and her companion, Wuunferth?''

''Her companion, her brother I believe, aided in the rebuilding in the city. Though he referred to the girl with a name different from what we know.''

This pricked the Jarl's interest, the girl had an alias that meant she had something to hide, which meant that she couldn't be trusted, she was a threat. What kind Ulfric wasn't sure, but if she was one, there could be little he could do against her with the city and his men in the state that they were both in. Galmar and Ulfric exchanged quick glances, both had drawn the same conclusion. ''And of the girl in question?''

''She is recovering in one of the rooms.'' Wuunferth's eyes dropped to the floor.

''When she wakes I wish and audience with her.''

''Ulfric, I believe that may not be the best idea,'' Ulfric raised an eyebrow there was a flicker of irration in his eyes, Wuunferth's lips pursed as he found the correct response ''even when she wakes her...condition...will be unstable for a few days. Give her time before you question her.''

The old mage was biting his tongue about something...something important. For now Ulfric let it be, if it was truly that important he would question the mage another time, when they both weren't so exhausted and much less irritable.

''Very well Wuunferth. I'll question her when you decide her to be fit.''

There was a flicker in the old mage's eyes; Ulfric decided that it was just the candle light playing tricks on his exhausted mind.

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><p><strong>So what do we think? I know not much happens in this chapter, it will get more interesting next chapter, which should be uploaded on Sunday :)<strong>

**Fun Fact: For the first two days after I uploaded the last chapter the story stats didn't register any views, it registered reviews but had nothing on views. Not even a zero, just two blank days. Congratulations! You did what that stampede did to Mufasa to fanfiction :L All I can say is well done.**

**Have a wonderful week-end!**

**~Marie  
><strong>


	22. Brother

**Sorry it's late, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble, like a lot  of trouble. I'm still not happy with it but I have a feeling it won't get any better. I wrote about half and then scraped it completely and rewrote it and still don't like it, I'm sorry for the quality of this chapter hopefully my muse won't be so stagnant next chapter.  
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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Brother

Sleep came to the Breton sparingly that night, as it had done every night since her escape from the Thalmor Embassy.

Lianna had gained a few hours of sleep, more than she had of late. Though her general weakened state could have probably explained that, the darkness that she had tumbled into before the skeleton of the dragon, was more likely to be some sort of primal stupor rather than sleep. Regardless of whether it was a state of comatose or slumber it was still shattered apart by golden men. Never was she safe from them, they would always find her in the blissful darkness of sleep. Blades in their hands and a glint of something disgustingly evil in their strange eyes, their pupils dilated and rolling with sick pleasure like fat lazy flies. The nightmares would always begin in the same fashion.

She would be dressed in white, a flowing dress with flowers in her hair. She would be walking down a corridor with a door at the far end, the west side of said corridor with many windows, great long high things that threw in golden swaths of light. Then quite suddenly the golden light vanishes, as if someone had plucked the very sun from the sky. Her hands are suddenly chained at the wrists and her gown but rags. She would turn and scream as elves emerge from the wall behind her. She would begin to run for the door at the far end of the corridor, but she doesn't make it. She never did. She falls to the ground, tripped seemingly by the air. As she collides with the flag stoned floor the scene changes. To one that is, was and forever will be evil, even when it was being built, years before, this place crawled with malice. This is where the nightmare changed into memory, this was also the point where the nightmare became random. A sadistic game of lucky dip with the memories of her torture. That night in particular it was a memory of them flogging her. The Breton is once again a cowering frightened screaming heap on the floor, the leather whip is swung back with lazy ease and thrown forward again in a painful arc, clapping across her back adding to many raw and bleeding welts that embroider her skin. The memory plays out until the elves tire of their sadistic game, they stop, they would reach for her arm to drag her back to her cell. But before they can touch her with their golden long fingers she would awake.

Lianna awoke gasping and panting, silver eyes wild and feral with fear. She found herself in a room she did not recognise, in a soft bed, silk sheets. Her body ached and throbbed, her muscles taut and exhausted beneath her skin, her very bones seemed to ache. There was also a very a strange humming pain that ran throughout her body, it was most prominent in her palms and she felt altogether lighter, woozy. Though she hadn't experienced it before, somehow she knew that the more lightheaded woozy aching sensation was thanks to her completely depleted magika. For a long moment, Lianna lay staring into the darkness around her, the darkness stared back yielding nothing but silence. Finally the Breton relaxed, her relief rushed out of her mouth in a slow exhale.

Lianna tried to reposition herself in the large bed and found her arm in a strange position, preventing the woman from rolling to her side. Her left arm was tight with pressure and stiff, she weakly waggled her left hand, it was free but restricted. With her right hand she felt her arm,bandages instead of skin met her fingers, she ran her fingers along the material from top to bottom, from wrist to elbow there was noticeably firm object in-between the folds of the bandages. A splint, she had broken an arm, interestingly there was no pain in the limb, which meant that a healer had tended to her. If it had been done by hands that didn't know magic she would have been in far more pain than she was now. She felt about in the dark (as best she could) for any other injuries and found no more. The stiffness of her body suggested that whoever had healed her had little knowledge of restoration of fatigued muscles and tissues. The splinted arm suggested that the healer was rushed and had no time to heal the bone, only to dull the pain.

After some time the novelty of the pain lost her interest and Lianna found herself wondering where she was. She was in Windhelm that was assured, but where exactly? The bed she was led in spoke of money and wealth, grandeur. Her eyes had adapted to the dark and now she had a better view of the room, though thanks to her rather limp and painful body Lianna was unable to sit up, so she was forced to roll her eyes around their sockets to note the things in her peripheral vision, lying on her back the only clear view being the ceiling above her. To the Breton's far left there was what appeared to be a fireplace, it was cold and dark with no fire crackling inside of it, further left was the only door to the room and next to the bed was a bedside table. The room was noticeably bare Lianna decided, simple, practical. Something clicked in her brain, she remembered this simple and sparse decor, she was in the Palace of the Kings.

...

Adair stepped through the great doors to the Palace of the Kings, his muscles and joints were sore and throbbing after helping reconstruct the city. Without another shift till tomorrow the Breton fancied nothing more than a bottle of mead and a warm bed. As he absently scratched his cheek he felt the coarseness of stubble under his callous fingertips, he had neglected to shave the past few days, he had been kept constantly busy with rebuilding the city that he hadn't had the time. He hesitated in the doorway to the barracks that had been left open, and felt a pang of guilt for he also neglected his sister these past few days. The room normally reserved only for Stormcloaks was now filled with both civilians and soldiers, more beds had been arranged around the room some were filled with sleeping bodies while most were used as seats for the walking injured to chat and enjoy themselves. It was a happy sight, amongst all the chaos and bedlam of the past few days to see people enjoying something as normal as another's company. Lianna was sat in the throng of people animatedly chatting to the man who she was tending to. She appeared to be gently picking out shards debris from the man's back with a dagger, her hands were clever and quick and didn't once falter against the man's skin. Her arm was no longer bandaged suggesting that she had healed it herself, Adair lent against the wall of the barracks he signalled her over when she had pressed a glowing hand to the wound and begun to walk through the maze of beds.

The woman weaved through the beds towards him smiling brightly, she embraced him gently.

''Brother, finally you grace me with you presence.'' Adair winced at the underlining hurt in her voice.

''Sorry Del, I've barley had a moment to myself these past suns.'' Lianna's eyes flickered over the stubble forming along his jaw, her eyes softened as she took in his tired complexion. She mirrored him, leaning against the wall arms crossed watching the Nords before them.

''Don't worry yourself Adair, and my name is Lianna.''

''Did you hate life so much back home you felt the need to change your name?''

Lianna shook her head ''No, something more like a new life, a new start. A new identity.''

Adair looked at his sister, had she really hated home so much to runaway? He felt guilty that he had left her at the tender age of ten to go learn the ways of the sword with a distant uncle. He had left her alone to be miserable, and his gut twisted with self loathing for it. The original plan had been to take the woman back to High Rock, not for a marriage she obviously didn't want but to simply take her home, where she belonged. But, with her being the Dragonborn he didn't know if he could take her away from Skyrim when they so obviously needed her. Even now he found it hard to full get his head around the fact that she took down dragons the same way he could take down bandits. For him she would always be his little baby sister, running down the corridors bare footed and laughing, begging him to play with her.

''How long have you not been confined to your room for rest?''

''Today is my second day, though I was only allowed by Wuunferth to use my magic today.'' The day before the woman had been pulled by an instinctual force to the barracks wanting to desperately banish the feel of loneliness that came from being confined to a room for days. At first the Nords avoided her, shifting about in their beds and shooting her uncertain glances but throughout the day the Nords had warmed to her and had often struck up conversation with her and included her in their telling of tales. Lianna had stayed in the barracks until she had to be asked to leave, she was scared of returning back to that room which was dark and held no laughter or life.

Adair watched his sister feeling worry begin to take hold of him, Lianna was staring fixedly off into the middle distance a haunted and sad shimmer to her eyes.

''D-Lianna, is everything alright?''

The woman turned to him the haunted gaze was nowhere to be seen, she gave her brother a smile though it didn't reach her eyes.

''Yes, why do you ask?''

Adair opened his mouth to speak but found the words that were spoken next weren't his. The two Bretons turned to see the Jarl's steward walking briskly towards them. Jorleif stopped to address Lianna, Adair felt a flicker of frustration as the Nord snubbed him completely.

''Dragonborn, Jarl Ulfric wishes an audience with you. Follow me please.''

Adair raised an eyebrow at his sister, she responded with a blank look and a shrug, as she trotted after the steward. Why the Jarl wanted to talk to his sister he couldn't guess, but by the quick, almost hidden, flicker of fear in Lianna's eyes he guessed that his sister might have half an idea.


	23. Raising hackles

**:O Story stats says this story has over 21,000 hits. That's just...incredible and completely INSANE :O That so many people read this story, and like it. I want to give you all a hug :') All I can say is thanks for being amazing guys. :)**

**If you haven't guessed already dialogue isn't my strong suit -_-' so I can only hope Ulfric's and Lianna's exchange is believable and not OOC.**

**Enjoy!  
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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Raising hackles

Lianna stood in the war room her eyes taking in the room, the door that led back out into the main hall didn't have a bolt or any locking mechanism, which would come in handy when she would need to slip in during the dead of night. Though her hands were nimble and deft with restoration and destruction magic, the same couldn't be said with lock picking. In the centre of the room was a large table with a map of Skyrim placed onto, the map was dotted with red and blue flags. One half was red and the other equal in size, was blue. Though there didn't seem to be any useful information in immediate sight she presumed that they must keep all important intel under lock and key, though her theory couldn't be proved until she actually started this whole reproachful spying business. But that would have to wait for a better time, especially considering now that she was standing before the Jarl of Windhelm waiting for him to speak.

It would have been _effortless_ to underestimate her if Ulfric didn't known that the young woman before him was the Dragonborn. What with her small frame, and soft round face that was common with her kin, her arms with their soft muscle that knew nothing of hand to hand combat. She was plain, the type of woman a man wouldn't immediately call to his bed but, nor would he kick her out of it if he found her there in the morning. Her brown hair hung down to her mid back, it wasn't braided in the fashion that women adopted in Skyrim, regardless of race. Long hair got in the way of combat, but then she was a mage, a long range fighter. Who didn't know the perils that free long hair could pose in the heat of battle. Regardless of her phenomenal power, there was the air of a novice about her, as if all of this was new to her, as if she was still learning. There was also something not quite hidden in her grey eyes, something that Ulfric recognised in himself from a dark time in his youth. But he didn't delve into the thought any further, for he had a job at hand. He ran a hand over his beard and he composed his words.

''I do not like being deceived Dragonborn,'' Lianna's eyes snapped up to Ulfric's, her lips were set in a narrow line. ''so tell me who are you?''

The Breton grimaced, ''That's a rather broad question don't you think?'' Ulfric's expression remained as blank as ever, the corners of Lianna's mouth drooped slightly. ''I presume you want to know why I've been using an alias?''

The Nord nodded and again Lianna grimaced ''It's not a particularly exciting story.''

''With the excitement of the past few days, I would welcome something that is sedate.'' The Jarl replied in his slow deep voice.

Not knowing whether she should feel insulted or not Lianna wrinkled her nose and smirked ''I could be wrong, but it seems that you don't particularly give two septims about my history.''

Ulfric's eyes flickered with amusement ''Personally I don't.'' Lianna found her lips pursing ''But, I am Jarl and as such if there is anything that threatens my hold or my city, I must act.''

The Breton smirked. ''You consider me a threat to your hold and city after I saved it?''

The Nord's baritone was grave, ''Possibly. If whatever secrets you hide could threaten my people, or Skyrim for that matter.'' _If only you knew Ulfric._ Lianna thought with a slither of guilt settling in her stomach.

Lianna took in a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was ordering her tale in her mind. ''My real name is Delphinia Magusson, I hail from Daggerfall. My brother, the man with me, is Adair Magusson.''

''Magusson, I recognise that name.''

Lianna nodded smiling slightly ''I expected you to, my father is a merchant and ships goods all across Tamriel.''

''That would make you a nobleman's daughter.''

The woman shrugged, she had never thought of it like that before. ''Yes, I suppose I am.'' She shook her head softly to regain her original place in her story ''Long story short. My father announced to me that I was engaged and was to be wed to another merchant's son on my twenty second birthday. But I wasn't, and still am not, very taken with the idea of becoming a nobleman's broodmare. So I ran away and here I am before you today.''

''How original.'' Ulfric drawled, the woman's face contorted as she tried to contain her laughter. For a moment her plain face was transformed into something..._beautiful_...Her smile made her face light up, her eyes were crinkled and shone fiercely with amusement, molten silver.

''I did warn you.'' She smirked warmly ''Is it that hard to believe that I wanted freedom and not to have my life dictated by my father?''

''No, because nobleman's daughters all across Tamriel want the exact same thing as you did.''

''But most nobleman's daughters don't run away from home to find they are the Dragonborn.'' _And most certainly _aren't _ under the Legion's thumb forced to be a spy. _Lianna added in her mind.

The corner of the Jarl's lips twitched with amusement. ''Most nobleman's daughters aren't stupid enough to run straight into a country with civil war.''

Lianna's smile vanished at his insulting words, she knew she shouldn't have retaliated like a child would, but there was a hot headed streak in the young woman and she spoke before she can stop herself. ''Most noblemen aren't stupid enough to start a civil war.'' She snapped back.

''Most Bretons aren't so impertinent to argue with a Jarl.''

''Most Jarls aren't so impertinent to insult the Dragonborn.''

The silence that immediately followed was heavy, Lianna was sure that at any moment the Jarl would call the guards and throw her in the dungeon for her little outburst. Ulfric's face gave away nothing, it was blank which simply made the woman more on edge, and made the flickering rage in her burn brighter. Ulfric ran a hand over his beard, if it had been anyone else the Nord would have immediately bellowed for the guards to throw them out, but to throw the Dragonborn out of his palace wouldn't do anything for his popularity.

''Tell me Dragonborn, what name do I call you by?''

Lianna's eyebrows quirked, she hadn't expected that. ''Lianna. Delphinia was the girl I left behind in Daggerfall.''

''You should know I have been called worse by better people. Now Lianna, I think it would be wise if you return to the wounded before either of us say anything we truly regret.'' His effortless insult crawled and wriggled deep inside her skull, she gritted her teeth knowing any retaliation would simply make her that much closer to being thrown into a cell. So biting her tongue she turned and quickly excited the small room.

_Prick._ She thought as she made her way back to the barracks.

...

Lianna closed her bedroom behind her silently. She shifted through the darkness of the palace corridors, she pressed herself into the darkness of the walls her breath was slow and controlled. Her pace was quick, the balls of her feet flirted with the cold stone. Her grey eyes flickered in the darkness hoping not to detect any lone Stormcloak on guard duty, thankfully she was alone in the corridors. She pushed the heavy door that led out to the hall open, just enough to allow her to slip through. She was a specter, a shadow as she soundlessly made her way towards the war room. She stopped a few paces from the door.

''Laas.'' She whispered the energy made her lips tingle. Through the walls red orbs began to bloom in the air, they pulsated and quivered with life. None were visible from the war room, but further back into the palace many orbs fluttered and shuddered. Braver now in her motions and movements she opened the door and stepped inside, the room was pitch dark only the contours of the table barely visible in the blackness. Standing at her full height she released a candlelight spell from her hand to illuminate the room. The light was cold and harsh as it chased away the blackness of night, blinking heavily the Breton set to work. She moved to the cabinets and chests that clustered one side of the room, once crouching before a cabinet, she found a heavy old lock firmly keeping its contents safe, though not for much longer. Several broken lock picks later, the locks opened with a deeply satisfying _clunk_. She immediately pulled out a few of the sheets of paper and shifted through them, patrol routes, letters between the Jarls, placement of forts and the route of cargo wagons. Grabbing a quill from the table and stabbing it hurriedly into an ink well she quickly scribbled down the intel on another piece of parchment. She couldn't risk actually stealing the intel, then it would be obvious that someone was stealing information. The Breton half wished she would be found out, she wanted the guards to burst through the door and drag her down to the dungeon, but they didn't. She worked quickly and silently, when she was done she put away all of the documents, clicked the lock back in its place and tucked the parchment of paper under her cloak.

...

The freezing night air filled and burned the Breton's lungs as she hopped down the steps away from the Palace of the Kings. She stopped in front of the first turning to her left, she hadn't been to that part of the city before, her curiosity pricked she found herself walking through the bend of walls that separated one district from another. Lianna gasped when she stepped away from the winding walls to stand at the top of the street. To say it was a street was a stretch it may have been one days before, but now...Just the skeletons of the houses remained, rubble rose high into the sky into a twisted wall of stone and wood. The only sound was the wind howling through the creaking remains, Lianna's breath caught in her throat why had this part of the city been left? All the other parts of the city had been cleared days ago, and they had ever started rebuilding some districts.

''This is the Grey Quarter. Well, was.'' Came a voice above the little Breton, the woman turned quickly towards the voice to find Gaila standing on a beam that stood erect out of the rubble. The hooded woman dropped down from the height with the grace of a bird and landed soundlessly before the Breton.

''The what Quarter?''

''I didn't expect the Nords to tell you.'' Gaila replied disgust heavy in her voice ''The Grey Quarter or the Snow Quarter as it was once known, holds the whole population of Windhelm's Dunmer. They are forced to live here in segregation away from the rest of the city. At least the Dunmer are actually allowed in the city, the Argonians don't have such a luxury.''

''And people are ok with_ this_?'' Lianna pointed at the derelict street.''Jarl Ulfric is ok with _this_?''

''I'm sure there are those who don't agree with it, but what can they do? As for the Jarl, he put them here and he can do what he likes with them.''

Lianna's face was twisted with rage, disgust and shock. ''Why didn't I found out about this earlier?'' She faintly remembered many nights ago her brawl with a drunken racist Nord.

''Because they don't want to be perceived as racists, that certainly won't do them any favours with their little civil war. And Ulfric doesn't want Skyrim to know that he's a egotistical, narcissistic racist because that definetly won't help his chances of becoming High King.''

Lianna's jaw clenched and her fists balled at the injustice of it all.

''Where are the Dunmer now?'' They certainly weren't in the barracks or in the temple.

Gaila shrugged ''Probably at the docks with the Argonians, though I can't imagine either party is happy about.''

The Breton's lips were set into a thin line of determination, she would definitely have confront Ulfric about this, but first...

Suddenly there came a voice from behind the two women that filled the Breton woman with uncontrollable fear and rage, her legs shook under her weight and adrenaline rocketed through her making her dizzy. The voice boomed out into the silence both woman turned to look at each other, panic burned brightly.

''What do you think you're doing?''

_Fuck._

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><p><strong>And you all probably hate me for that cliff hanger :L Gaila stop planting things into Lianna's head, even if they are true...Awh Ulfric you know I love you, but why you gotta be such a douche? <strong>

**Please tell me what you think of this chapter, I love hearing from you guys! **

**TTFN :3**


	24. Not Quite Eye To Eye

You don't know how pumped I have been to write this chapter. I have been waiting for so looong :D I had a blast writing this chapter and I hope you have a blast reading!

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Not Quite Eye To Eye

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><p><em>"Antipathy, dissimilarity of views, hate, contempt, can accompany true love." -August Strindberg<em>

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><p>The Jarl sat on the end of his bed; he ran a hand through his hair pulling the damp strands away from his face. He slowed his breath and rose from the bed fluidly, he had hoped the horrors of his youth would lie dormant and never haunt him again, the Gods it seemed, had other ideas. He pulled on his clothes, knowing only fresh air could calm his frayed nerves, a thought came to him which halted the hand that reached for the door. What if the Gods had set the horrors of his past anew because of this war? Maybe this was the Gods way of making him atone for the conflict that held Skyrim. Ulfric angrily banished the thought by pulling the heavy door violently open, the guard that was posted outside said door jumped, startled by the sudden bang of the door behind him, but more surprised to see his normally stoic and composed leader obviously on edge and agitated, the guard dropped his eyes to the ground. Nords were passionate creatures, both in life and in the battlefield. Ulfric Stormcloak seemed to the epitome of a Nord both in body and mind, even though he seldom, if ever, showed emotion, all his men knew he was passionate in his beliefs and in everything he did, which was one of the reason why so many banded around him and wanted him to be High King. A Nords passion often led to a fiery temper, a Nord in a bad temper was to be avoided, Ulfric Stormcloak in a rage was something definitely to be avoided, at all costs. So the guard did what his job entailed, he stood as still as possible and tried not to catch the eye of the Jarl as he brushed past. Silently he wandered what had so evidently unnerved the man, but knowing it wasn't his place to wonder, he shushed his curious mind.<p>

Ulfric moved with surprising pace for his size, his silver cloak billowed behind him as he strode through the corridors of his palace. He turned into the main hall and with little more than a nod towards his soldiers posted there; he stepped out into his city. The two brother moons were fat and glowing in the dark sky murky mottled with thin meshes of gossamer clouds. It wasn't often that it didn't snow in Windhelm, and so Ulfric took a moment to appreciate the momentary stillness of the night. He inspected the rebuilding of the city and was pleased with the quick competent work of his men, nearly all of the homes that had retained some structure were nearly fully repaired, which meant that some of the injured and homeless could soon return back home rather than staying in the temple of palace. Ulfric found his feet taking him to what had once been called the Snow Quarter, he had left the Dunmer as he was sure that there would be conflict between the Nords and the elves, and the last thing Ulfric wanted was an uprising within his own walls, if nothing else it would be sourly ironic.

The Jarl ran a large hand over the cold surface of the wall that led to the Grey Quarter, he found it interesting that the elves, though there situation must be dire, hadn't once asked him or his men for aid, _They must truly despise me to refuse to ask for help_. A part of him didn't blame the Dunmer, they were refugees forced to leave what they knew to come to a country that didn't want them as much as they themselves didn't want to be there. But at the same time positive relationships whether business, political or for pleasure were two way streets, he wasn't going to treat the elves cordially while they so openly despised his city and the people that lived in it, both sides desired respect from the other, but both sides were as proud as the other, neither side was going to be the first to bow to the other, which only meant for a long and arduous stalemate.

The man turned through the curled tunnel of stone wanting to inspect the damage to the Grey Quarter personally. The twisted contorted mangled pile of rubble that met him made the Nord feel a pang of momentary remorse, for all the disagreements and distrust between them he truly felt sorry for the Dunmer, but this flicker of compassionate humanity was quickly forgotten when the Jarl noted a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. He stepped towards the movement eyes narrowed, combing the darkness for the source of movement. His hand instinctively reached for the axe at his hip, his eyes found a lone figure nearly concealed in the shadows he recognised the small frame of the person instantly.

''What do you think you're doing?''

The figure turned to face him and Ulfric was indeed correct, the person was none other than the Dragonborn. If his eyes had been keener, younger perhaps, he might have seen a second figure in the shadows delve deeper into the darkness and vanish behind the tangled remains of the buildings, but he didn't. The girl looked as surprised to see him there as he felt to find her, the Breton's shocked expression only made the look of exhaustion all the more obvious on her face, he had seen the same look held by many of the healers, but there was a deep look of tiredness about her, not the exhaustion that suggested physical exertion, but rather as if she hadn't slept well for many days.

He repeated his question to her again, ''What are do you think you're doing?'' she watched him intently as if he was to say something more, but he didn't. Ulfric noticed the girl's eyes flicker behind her as if looking for someone she turned quickly back to him, looking wholly bravery, for a moment there was a flicker of relief in her eyes before it was carefully hidden. His arms crossed across his chest and his brow lowered over his eyes ''I thought Wuunferth confined you solely to the palace.'' he felt like he was chastising a misbehaving child.

''I was confined to the palace after being newly out of bed rest; I didn't think it mattered now I'm fully healed.''

''Your kind shouldn't be out in this cold, you'll freeze.''

It was the girl's turn to cross her arms, lips pursed and eye brow quirked. ''And since when did give a damn about me?'' It seemed she had taken to heart his earlier comment about not caring personally about her history, he also expected her to reprimand him on his comment but she held her tongue.

''You are the Dragonborn, you wouldn't be any good to Skyrim if you froze to death thanks to your own stupidity.'' At his remark the girl gritted her teeth, deciding whether to retaliate; it seemed she sensibly decided against it. She stalked past him quickly and grumbled something very unladylike as she stomped. A small smirk twitched at his lips as he easily caught up to her quick yet small strides. Her arms were crossed, her hands under her arm pits. She shot him a venomous glare when he appeared besides her, Ulfric didn't appear to notice; she quickened her pace to a trot in an attempt to lose him, but he simply widened his stride to keep up with her. It was obvious her attempts at losing him were pointless, while she became slowly more and more agitated the Nord seemed to become all the more amused by her. Suddenly stopping she turned to him, inwardly Ulfric flinched at how quick she was, outwardly he didn't so much as blink. She stared up at him apparently undeterred by the obvious height difference; she only came up to his chest after all, furthering the Nord's childlike impression of her. Lianna's mouth was set in a determined line though it trembled slightly, she had not only gritted her teeth to stop herself from retaliating but also to prevent them from chattering.

''W-what are you doing out here a-anyway?'' She asked determinedly, Ulfric suppressed a smirk at the tremble in her voice, her blind bravery and ferocity was like that of a pup who didn't yet know how small and crushable he was.

''I often take walks in my city.''

''At _n-__night?''_ She asked an eye cocked again, her sudden curiosity had apparently replaced her annoyance.

''I prefer it as I am left alone to my thoughts.'' She shrugged and nodded, his reasons were sound to her even if a bit odd. She turned away from him and began walking again, slower and more amicable in her pace. Ulfric was surprised at how mercurial she could be, but then she was a Breton, the Mer in her probably maybe her fickle.

''And what about you? You must have a good reason to walk about in the cold simply in a cloak and sleeping ware.'' He asked as he regained his place at her side. He looked at her, Lianna's face was still as if deep in thought her grey eyes were dark, that haunted fearful look ghosted her eyes, her skin had paled in the moonlight and she suddenly looked far older than the young woman she was. Ulfric felt the hairs prickle on his neck, he knew that look. He had seen it in himself years ago...

''Nightmare, couldn't sleep.'' Ulfric felt a compulsive desire to ask her what obviously plagued her, a small part of him wished to admit his true reason for being out there in the dead of night; they after all seemed to share a reason, though Ulfric hoped for the girl's sake that they didn't share the cause. But then that would mean sharing things with a Breton he barely knew, things he hadn't even shared with those closest to him. Things he himself had buried away so many years ago, so Ulfric remained silent.

The two walked in silence as they winded through high tunnel of walls that led out onto the main street of the city. Though her pace was slow, because of her shorter legs, he found it was comfortable to walk at her side. Quite suddenly the Breton stopped. She was looking straight up at the sky a small whimsical smile of wonder on her lips. ''It's beautiful isn't it.'' She whispered, for a moment he wondered what on earth she was talking about then he followed her gaze. He had forgotten how beautiful his harsh cold homeland could be, the night sky was ablaze with bright ribbons of blues and greens far too many shades shifted and swayed above their heads in the coal sombre sky.

''Yes it is.'' He agreed, he began to walk again but stopped short when he realised her small form wasn't besides him, turning back he found her staring fixedly up at the sky. She looked like a completely different entity than moments before, that strange old haunted haggard was replaced with a young woman amazed by life. The cyans and olives made her silver eyes become a shimmering whirlpool of colour; the light made every inch of her, from the rise of her nose to the curve of her jaw, something...rather wonderfully. For a moment he thought her beautiful. Suddenly her eyes fell from the sky and she began to walk towards him, she was plain and simple again, uninspiring and average, an amused quizzical look played in her eyes.

...

It had been three days since any of the healers had seen Lianna, three days where she had not been in the barracks or temple healing, they had seen no sight nor sound of her and so had told the Jarl. Ulfric had requested an audience with the Dragonborn immediately and now she stood before him. Standing at the base of his throne looking up at him her face passive and calm. His long legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles, his head supported by a fist under his chin.

''Where have you been?''

''Healing.'' She replied quickly.

The Jarl's eyes narrowed. ''Do not lie to me woman. You have been reported absent for three days, in that time four men were lost, brothers, fathers and sons. I will not ask you again, where have you been?''

''I do not lie. I have out healing those who you probably wish would die.''

Ulfric leaned forward in his throne his voice low and accusing. ''Watch your words Dragonborn, men died because of your absence they could have been saved had you been here. But, no you were selfish and now their lives are on your head.''

_''Selfish!_'' She barked, her grey eyes shone with rage,''I have been at those goddamn docks healing until I can no longer stand, men may have died that I could have saved, but what of you? You offer the Argonians and the Dunmer nothing, while the Nords recover in your palace. Men women and children have died because of you, they are your citizens you are supposed to protect them, but you turn a blind eye.''

''I have never turned a blind eye to them.''

''Neither have you ever helped them.'' Lianna snapped back

''I offer them shelter in my city.''

''Shelter? They were crammed into a filthy back alley and now are piled on top of each other at the docks. I'm sure many would prefer to be die from molten ash in their lungs rather than live in this city.''

''Insolent girl, how many other cities would accept them into their walls, I am one of the few who tolerate them.''

''Do want a round of applause with your bullshit?'' The Nord lunged down from his throne to stand before the small girl. He stood at his full height and looked down at her, she stared straight back unbridled rage and disgust raw in her eyes. Not even his own men had the gall to speak to him in such a way and he certainly was going to let this ignorant Breton bitch do it in his own palace.

''And to think that you are the honourable Dragonborn, but no, it seems that you are no different from those untrustable cut throats, so get gone and live with your damnable kin.''

Lianna's hand blurred, Ulfric stopped it with ease, catching her wrist and holding it tightly. He was shocked at the softness of her skin, he had forgotten a woman's touch. The girl wriggled in his grip but he held her tighter, he didn't care if he bruised her. As she twisted and protested he noticed her hand was open, she had gone to slap him rather than to punch him like he had predicted. A punch was a motion of anger or outrage, a slap was something a disappointed parent might do as a child's disgraceful actions. Another thing he noticed was that her wrist was becoming increasingly warm, hot almost, then he remember that she was a mage and fire came as easily to her as breath came to him. Not particularly wanting a burnt hand Ulfric sensibly dropped her wrist. The instant he did so she leapt away from him as if he had been the one to burn her, she was repulsed by him. She rubbed her wrist and gritted her teeth she opened her mouth again to shout again, but it seemed she was so far past anger that no words formed and instead came a slow growl her eyes flashed with gold and for a moment he saw the dragon in her.

''Fuck you Ulfric Stormcloak.'' She growled before she turned quickly, she noted the gaze of many soldiers on her but the Breton ignored them, she walked for the door that led to many rooms, including her own. The door flung open when she was paces from it, the door hit the stone wall with a loud resounding boom and she vanished inside leaving the hall shaking and in shock.

...

''I hope that you don't think any less of Ulfric because of this.'' Came a old tired voice from behind the woman. Lianna turned from her furious packing to find Wuunferth stood in the doorway.

Lianna sneered ''Oh don't worry my opinion of him hasn't changed, I still think he's a racist arrogant dick.''

Wuunferth sighed as she watched the younger mage pull her satchel onto her shoulder, she walked towards the doorway Wunnferth didn't move.

''Move Wuunferth. Or I'll move you.'' Lianna growled, her eyes were still wild with rage.

''I'm not here to condone what he has done, neither am I to condone what you have done child. Reconsider Lianna you are needed here.''

''But I'm needed more at the docks. Besides I'm not going to stay anywhere that thinks me a cut throat savage.''

Wuunferth damned Ulfric's grudging nature and his temper ''You both are similar, you know.'' Lianna rushed past him with such force he staggered back he watched her vanish around the corner fuming and grumbling under her breath. Yes, they were very much alike.

...

She was nothing like him; she was nothing like that narcissitic pig. She rage carried her quickly through the twisting dark corridors of the palace; she did not care where she went she wanted to get as far away from Ulfric as possible. Her wrist still throbbed from his strong grip, she looked down at it in the dim light and saw finger shaped bruises blooming. The more she walked down into the palace the older and forgotten it looked, she now stood in front of a heavy door, she tasted air in her mouth. The passage way seemed to be forgotten, the whole corridor was dark with no torch attached to the wall and the door was older and heavier than the others in the palace. She had a feeling she was the first to come down her in a years, she opened the door and blinked back the snow and bright light that rushed forwards into her.

The howling wind seeped through the robes and made her body throb, she would never get used to the cold of Skyrim, that was something she was sure off. The ground beneath her boots was paved with large flat sheets of grey stone rather than the fat bulging cobbles than ran through the city. Moss and weeds clung between the slabs and in large cracks. Lianna thought that this place must have been the courtyard a long time ago, but for whatever reason it had been forgotten and left to be reclaimed by the wilderness. In the center of the courtyard stood a tall proud statue, a white roaring bear standing on its hind legs roaring to the sky, blind white eyes staring up into the clouds. Snow had settled on the bears head and on its limp arms and shoulders. Lianna felt her rage begin to bubble back, she threw a small fireball at the statue and it collided and exploded, the bear stood as proud as before only a small black mark on his stomach. _That felt good. _Lianna readied another fireball and threw it with all her rage; it collided with the bear and exploded _That felt very good. _

If she couldn't throw fireballs are Ulfric Stormcloak venting onto a statue that symbolised his organisation was just as good. Before long the woman was unleashing all her anger at the bear she had lost all connections around her, it was just her, her rage and her target.

_Damn you Jarl Ulfric_. A volley of fire stuck the statue. _Damn the Stormcloaks, damn the Imperials, damn the Thalmor. Damn them all to Oblivion. _A steam of fire twisted around the bear and barraged it with heat. _Damn them for making me a spy, damn them for torturing me. Damn you father for making me run away_. Fire shot from the woman's hands in white hot blurs, every time they hit their target she felt better. Her face was wet, maybe from her tears or maybe from the snow that had melted from the heat of her flames. She swung her arms wildly the fire danced around her in long ribbons of searing red heat, a final bout of rage engulfed the flames in her hands, she lunged forwards and released the huge balls of fire into the bear. The sound was deafening, the heat was enough to make the Breton dizzy. As the steam and smoke cleared, it revealed the stump of the statue it hissed and popped as the sleet pounded down onto it. The bear was no more just a pile of rubble, Lianna felt her gut twist with fear, she had destroyed that statue. She heard voices in the distance, it would be long before they found it. Lianna turned and bolted away from the broken statue, the way a scared child will blindly run from danger. _Coward. _


	25. Reality

Hey, long time no see! :D Do you guys miss me? I missed you guys! Yeah, sorry for the delay college started for me and it is keeping me really busy, mixing that with procrastination and it makes for no new chapter for two weeks. I'll be having my AS exams in May which will probably mess up my schedule, but I'll try my best to keep updating as usual. I originally had planned Adair not to be in this chapter at all, but I like the guy. He's Li's big brother and her voice of reason, I hope you guys like him, 'cause he's gonna stick around the story, 'cause I love him too much to make him just drop off the end of the earth. I'll be quiet now, enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

Reality_  
><em>

It had been four days since the Dragonborn had left the Palace of the Kings, and still the girl's furious words rang in Ulfric's ears. It had been a long time since someone had so openly expressed their disgust for him; it had been even longer since someone had openly challenged him, and the Nord couldn't even remember when someone had been in an argument with him and been able to hold their own. Over the past days Ulfric had been left to brood, his feelings towards the Breton had gradually become sourer and sourer. He had come to the conclusion that he disliked her. (He would have wholly hated her if she hadn't been the Dragonborn, and had saved not only his life, but also his people's.) She was pugnacious, rash, headstrong, foolhardy and insolent. Though that being said...the girl must have some redeeming qualities, after all there had been a period (albeit short) when he had considered her not completely intolerable. And when she had tended to the injured, and lived in his palace, both his men and his people had apparently been enamoured with her. But he wasn't to be so easily won over, after all she was a mage, she might have simply _made _them like her with some bewitching spell. Ulfric ran his tongue over his teeth; he had come to the conclusion that whatever they had been before was something they would ever go back to. It seemed that from that moment, when she had shouted back at him with such venom, they were set to repel and hate each other.

The Jarl was pulled from his thoughts as Jorleif addressed him directly; the Jarl was in the war room leant over the map of Skyrim, pretending to consider military tactics. Galmar was seated to his left and Jorleif, stood at his right.

''Aren't you worried Ulfric?''

''About what?'' Ulfric murmured, his eyes racing over the little red flags that dotted on half of Skyrim. He was a Jarl and the leader of a rebellion, he had many worries.

''About the Dragonborn.''

Ulfric turned to the smaller Nord; he looked to the man and raised an eyebrow. ''Should I be?''

''What if she has left the city...what if she was to...''

''She won't leave, not while people need her.'' That was one redeeming quality he supposed, she had dogged determination to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Though Ulfric knew that wasn't what his adviser was insinuating, he was voicing their worst fear. What if the Breton turned against him, out of her own hatred for him and join the Imperial Legion. It was a possibility, a rather terrifying one, if Tullius managed to get his hands on her and the power she possessed, it would be all over, for all of them. He had a feeling that this would be the moment that Wuunferth would scold him for not being more patient with her; after all it was within in his best interests to stay on her better side. But, he had never had much patience for her kind, not since the Markarth incident anyway.

''So what do you propose we do then?'' Asked Jorleif.

Galmar snored, ''You worry too much, just let the girl have her tantrum, she'll come back soon enough. And then you let me have a few _words _with her and she won't dare be so rude again.''

''She's the Dragonborn. You can't simply have a _word _with her, like you do with our officers when they step out of line.'' Ulfric shook his head gently, no, they had to play this game carefully and allowing Galmar to beat the living shit out of her was anything but careful. As Ulfric turned back to the map of Skyrim, he remembered something his mother had said to him when he had been but a young child. _You catch more bees with honey, than with vinegar. _But Ulfric quietened the memory as he steered the conversation back to military advancements.

...

''Follow me.'' Adair fell in step beside the Dunmer as he walked down the slope that led to the docks. The Dunmer and Argonians watched him closely, they might have accepted his sister, but with him it was a different story. They saw him as an outsider, here to take their saviour away, and they didn't take too kindly to that. The Breton was now walking along the water's edge; the jetty's stretched out in front of him. ''Dragonborn, you have a visitor.'' The Dunmer called out into the small crowd, eyes turned on Adair and he thought for a moment that something would be said, but nothing became of their hostile and suspicious glances. There came a cheerful shout as a woman made her way across the slippery stone surface towards them.

''Adair! Brother, it is good to see you.'' Lianna exclaimed breathlessly as she embraced her brother. ''Thank you Sardi.'' Lianna beamed at the elf, Sardi gave a curt nod before he turned away from them, back to whatever he was previously doing. Adair thought he heard the man grumble something none too polite in his direction as he walked away, but ignored it. ''What are you doing here?''

''I could ask you the same thing.''

Her smile dropped from her face, making her look all the more pitiful. Her hair was a wild mess of tangles and knots, the dark circles under her eyes were much more pronounced then when he had last seen her.

''I can't believe you! You of all people should understand.'' Lianna snapped. Her lack of sleep and general all round fatigue was making her short temper all the shorter.

''Don't be like that, De-Lianna,'' Adair replied calmly, he grasped her shoulders and she wriggled against him angrily. ''Come on,'' He muttered pulling her down one of the jetties ''I want to talk to.'' Adair could feel many hostile eyes on his back. He stopped under the shadow of a cargo boat, he let go of her and she shrank away from him slightly. ''Now listen, don't you think this farce has gone on long enough.''

''What are you talking about Adair; I'm here to help these people.'' The woman snapped back at him, Adair grimaced.

''If you were truly here to help these people, then don't you think you would have swallowed your pride already?''

''What are you talking about?'' Lianna's eyes narrowed.

''I don't doubt your resolve to help these people, sister. I talk about your disagreement with the Jarl.''

''It was a little more than a disagreement don't you think.'' Lianna laughed coldly.

''If you were to apologise-''

''_Apologise_. I have nothing to be sorry for.''

''Or at least make amends then.'' Lianna snorted.

''If you think I'll talk to him while half of his city lies in disrepair and homeless, you've got another thing coming.''

Adair laughed, Lianna raised an eyebrow. ''You are more stubborn then I remember, sister.'' The look of rage on the Dragonborn's face softened.

''Well, I'm glad at least one of us finds this funny.'' Lianna muttered.

''Honestly Lianna, of all people in Skyrim, you have to put up the back of the next possible High King.''

''He could be the future Emperor and I still wouldn't give a Skeever shit.''

Adair shook his head and chuckled softly. ''Don't you understand, your making it that much harder for yourself.''

''How so?''

''You can continue to help these people Lianna, but you're only one person-''

''The Dragonborn though.''

''Yes, but only one person. If you go back to the Jarl and try and patch things up, then you'll have Ulfric on your side. You'll do far more good with the Jarl on your side than if you were against each other.''

Lianna chewed on her lip, her eyes misted over in thought. ''I'll consider it, brother.''

...

_Now is a good a time as any I suppose._ Lianna thought as she pulled open the warehouse door into the night air. They had been using the empty warehouse as a sort of bunkhouse, not that Lianna had gotten any sleep while she had lain in her bed, just the requiring nightmares. As she trudged through the newly fallen snow, up the slope that led back out into the city, she realised that it had been just over a week since she had left the palace and now she was returning in the dead of night. She chose to go back after night fall because it was just a lot easier that way. It meant she wouldn't need to awkwardly explain herself to the Dunmer and she wouldn't need to walk back into the palace, and probably be attacked on sight.

The only sound in the city was the crunching of snow under the Dragonborn's boots, her breath hung in the air around her head like a halo. The cold seeped through her robes and clawed and bit at her skin, she would need to invest in some thick furs if the chill persisted. She trudged through the winding alleyways in the darkness for what seemed like hours, as she moved in the darkness she thought of High Rock. She thought of the hot summers years ago spent swimming in the sea, days spent playing with her brother and the bloom of the flowers in the courtyard. Her memories were shattered when there came a sound from behind her, the clinking of metal boots on stone. The Breton turned quickly and the sight that met her made her heart stop. There were four of them, at the other end of the alleyway, their gold armour shone brilliantly in the moon light. For a moment Lianna thought maybe this was another nightmare, but her fingers throbbing with frostbite told her otherwise.

Lianna _ran. _She was no longer the Dragonborn with the Thu'um at her disposal, she was no longer a mage that could burn and freeze targets at will. She was just a terrified girl, running for her life. She could hear them behind her giving chase, their armour clinking, stabbing into the silent night. The dark of city blurred into blackness as she pelted through into the main square of Windhelm, suddenly the ground wasn't under her feet anymore and she fell forward into the air and collided heavily with the slippery ground. She skidded along the cobbled street, the ice burnt against her cheek, she curled tightly into a ball covered her head with her arms. So this was how she was too die, at the hands of the Thalmor. One of them stepped towards her; he drew his sword, a smirk on his face. He raised the golden blade into the air and brought it down with great force. Over the pounding of her heart and her screams the Dragonborn heard a strange words, ones she knew all too well, from somewhere behind her. There was what sounded like a explosion of thunder and the elf was sent flying backwards.

_Ulfric!_

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><p>Ulfric to the rescue! :3<p>

Next chapter, they'll kiss and make up (No, not literally :L) but it will be mushy and wonderful.

TTFN :)

-Marie


	26. Kindred

Hope you enjoy this chapter! I had such a blast writing it! :)

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Kindred

Ulfric slid his sword back into its scabbard; he observed the scene before him for a moment. Four golden bodies lay cold and limp on the black stone at his feet, they had been easy enough to kill, even if he had been out numbered. The elf that he had sent flying with his Thu'um hadn't gotten up once he had struck the ground, now the Nord could see that the fall had snapped the elf's neck. That had left three, but they were assassins they slitted throats from the shadows and knew little of hand to hand combat. They had never expected to enter into a real fight, let alone with the Jarl of Eastmarch. The fact that they were only garbed only in thin armour that yielded easily against his blade, hadn't helped them, and now they were dead.

The Jarl felt guilt and rage over come him, if he had increased the guards on watch than maybe this wouldn't have happened. He was furious that the elves had even managed to sneak into his hold, let alone his city. A cold chill suddenly gripped that back of his head, what would have happened if he hadn't been there to save the Dragonborn's life? She would be dead, and her death would be on his head. Speaking of the Dragonborn...Ulfric turned back around to the girl curled on the floor behind him. He felt fresh anger towards her now, she had been so selfish, she had just led there and had waited for them to cut the life from her. She was the Dragonborn, she had responsibilities to the world, and to be so _stupid_ to-to just to lie there-No. Now wasn't the time to be angry with her, she had just survived an assassination attempt, he would hold his anger for a more appropriate time.

''Get up.''

His low voice shattered through her wild fear, she opened her eyes and found him standing above her, he truly was a giant compared to her. For a long moment she blinked back at him, her eyes wide and her eyelashes wet, as if he had said the most outrageous thing in the world. Lianna thought she heard him sigh deeply as he outstretched a hand towards her, a gesture of kindness. For a moment she feared to reach out, he had been furious with her after all, but it seemed all their previous bad blood was being pushed aside, for now. She took his hand. It was warm and rough, years of wielding blades had calloused his skin, the sensation was new to her, though not unpleasant. She noticed how small her hand was compared to his as he pulled her to her feet. If there had been a moment when she truly thought him a bear, that would have been it. Quite suddenly he dropped her hand from his gentle but firm grip; it unsettled her how much she wished to snatched back his hand and hold it to warm her frostbitten fingers.

He considered her now, that look of hollowed fear and despair that had been hinted in her eyes, was now no longer hidden but there to stare back him. There was no disputing it, the Thalmor had caused her to become like this, and he felt his hatred for them reach a new gut wrenching level. She was crying silently and shivering as he herded her towards the palace and the safety it represented. Empathy wasn't an emotion that often came to the stoic Nord, but as he cast an eye over the small defeated pitiful girl next to him something inside him squirmed into life. Later he would consider it to be some kind of paternal kindness, but for the moment it baffled and unnerved him. What he did next he himself couldn't truly explain, he could put it down to the fact that he didn't want her to die of pneumonia or hypothermia and maybe it had some truth to it, after all she was a Breton built for the more humid climate of Riften or Whiterun, not the cold howling winds of the north. But somewhere there was a strange desire to care for this girl who he barely knew. There was something about her that made him want to care about her, and not in the way that would further his campaign for kingship, but something close to the way kin care for one another.

He smoothly removed his thick fur cloak and draped it over the Breton's shoulders. She stopped instantly at the sudden weight gain, her eyes found the Jarl's cloak draped over her, it was heavy and thick and deliciously warm. Her eyes leapt to meet those of the man; they looked just as surprised as hers. Unconsciously she wrapped it around herself, she guessed that it had once belonged to a snow bear, it would definitely agree with the running theme of bears. She sniffed and as she did so the scent of the cloak filled her nose, it was the foreign scent of man and the more familiar smell of pine trees, fire smoke and the smell of the earth that greeted her. She shot him a confused and rather alarmed glance, she was sure that wearing the Jarl's cloak was some kind of honour she didn't deserve or meant some kind of relationship she didn't possess, to go from very nearly coming to blows only days ago to now a sudden rather bold act of kindness confused her already troubled mind.

Ulfric had recovered from the shock of his actions and decided to answer the incredulous look she now looked at him with. ''I would never hear the end of it, if you were to die from the cold.'' Days ago she would have rebuked him quickly for him cruel words but, now she meekly accepted his reason. Her response deeply troubled him, where was the reckless girl who had thrown herself into battle against a dragon? Where was ferocious girl who had gone to slap him? Where was the girl who had destroyed an ageless statue out of blind anger? Where was the girl who had stubbornly remained in poverty to prove a point? Whoever the person was before him he knew that this wasn't Lianna, the Thalmor had poisoned her and twisted her to become something broken and fragile.

They entered the palace and he led her down to the kitchen, though the cook had long since gone to bed the fire was alive and brilliant in the hearth. On their way through the palace he had seen a couple of the guards on duty take a double look at them as the travelled down the corridors. Though with a harsh glare from their Jarl they had all turned back around to attention, he wondered what they must have thought of the sight. He was sure that some would suspect a secret affair between the Dragonborn and the Jarl, that their hatred for each other was just for show and that at night the two of them would reunite as lovers on a moonlight tryst. He was sure that by morning the city would be rife with ludicrous gossip and twisted truths, give a gossiping house wife long enough and she would assure the whole city that the Jarl of Eastmarch and the Dragonborn were to elope.

Lianna sat down in a chair in front of the fire, feeling thoroughly drained. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them as she absently watched the fire dance and sway before her. Memories flooded back to her, of her imprisonment and when they tortured her, the way they had laughed as she had screamed and begged them to stop. The sleepless nights since, and the assassination attempt only moments ago. She started to shake uncontrollably and a sob bubbled out of her throat, she supposed this was kind of horrible delayed reaction to it all. There was the prickle of awareness, she looked up through wet long lashes and hot fat tears she saw the Jarl watching her. His face was unreadable and blank as ever, though in his mind she was sure he was sneering at her emotional state. She gave an angry sniff and furiously wiped her eyes with her fist, her eyes narrowed and her voice hoarse she snapped at him angrily.

''Don't you know it's rude to stare.''?

There was a flicker of emotion in his eyes and a twitch of his mouth. ''So, there is life in you yet.'' He jested, at his words the light in her eyes darkened and her head bowed slightly.

''I am no mood to be talkative Ulfric.''

He crossed his arms, ''Then what are you in the mood for? Wallowing in your own grief and self pity? Letting the Thalmor have their way with you?''

Lianna gritted her teeth and a snapped back ''It's not like _you_ would understand!''

The air rung with her outcry and the only sound was the sound of the logs snapping in the fire. The Jarl raised an eyebrow. ''Really?'' He looked at her with something close to amusement, he knew something she didn't. Slowly he raised his wrist so that the fire's light fell onto it, and there on the underside of his wrist was a thin long scar, a mark given by shackles. And a scar very much like her own. ''Because I think I might understand more than you think.''

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><p>Ok, so here's the bad news, this story is going to be on hold. For about a month, till early June, because of my AS levels starting next week, I don't want fanfic writing to get in the way of revision and stuff and in turn I don't want revision and stress to affect the quality of the chapters. So I'm taking a break, but when I come back it'll pretty much be the summer holidays, so that means lots of chapters. Please leave a review; even if it's a short one, they always put a smile on my face and with all the stress of upcoming exams I think I'm gonna need something to smile about. God that wasn't meant to sound so cringy but it's true (sadly.) See you all in a month's time!<p>

-Marie :)


	27. Soldier Boy

**This chapter takes place prior to Lianna's return to the Palace of the Kings.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Soldier Boy

''Why would a Breton want to fight the Empire?'' Galmar's callous voice asked assessing the man that stood before him.

''Because Skyrim is my home.'' Funny, a month ago he had set foot inside the country for the first time and now he considered it his home.

Adair had left home at the age of sixteen, when his voice still trembled in and out of baritone. To train and learn the way of the sword from a distant uncle in Cyrodil. When he had learned all he could from his uncle he had became a sell sword going where good coin led him. He had travelled through the golden hills and valleys of the Alik'r Desert to the dizzying tall forest of Valenwood, and even, the wetlands of Black Marsh. He had never really considered anywhere home, even his Father's home was a stranger to him. But why now? After twelve years of wandering with no place to really return to, why did he consider this unyielding country his home? He supposed he could put it down to that old saying; 'Home is where the heart is.' His sister was here, his little baby sister. But of course she wasn't a baby anymore, she was a woman and the Dragonborn and fully capable of taking care of herself. But still there was something that inside him that wanted to protect her, so he had come to the conclusion that he would stay.

The thought of join the Stormcloak rebellion hadn't jumped immediately to mind, he was a sell sword by trade and so didn't know if the life of a soldier would suit him. He was used to the amount of coin in his pocket and the weather above his head dictating where we would go, not a general miles away from the field in a palace. But throughout his travels he had seen how the Empire worked, in some places it was corrupt. With generals and noblemen in the local Skooma dealer's pocket, though for the most part the Empire just seemed to be...weak. Though Adair had been but a babe before the war and so could be no judge of the Empire prior to the Great War, he had grown up in a world were Legionnaires had little man power to do anything. The Forsworn was a case and point of the Empire thin man power. The Empire had ran its course, it was now time for each country to take control over itself.

Galmar snorted in response, he knew the Breton's type. He was sell sword, they sold their services to the highest bidder and didn't take orders from anybody. But he wasn't going to rule out the man because of that, many a good sell sword had joined their cause. And the man appeared to be a competent swordsman, he had seen him with the others in the training yard. But he wasn't going to put him under oath, not yet anyway. He needed men that were loyal and weren't going to desert when they decided the coin wasn't good enough.

''Alright, you could be useful. But, first a test to see if you're able to keep up with life here.''

Adair didn't take the old Nord's opinion to heart, he wouldn't be doing his job if he allowed an man able to swing a sword into his Jarl's army.

''What kind of a test?''

''I need you to kill an Ice Wraith.''

''Just one Ice Wraith?'' Adair's eyebrow raised, killing an Ice Wraith was an old Nordic custom taken up by boys that wished to be considered men. Ice Wraiths were quick and could hit hard but were easy to kill. He had expected a much harder test.

Galmar smirked ''Aye, but not just any old Ice Wraith.'' The Nord walked over the map of Skyrim and pressed a finger to the south-east of Winterhold to a group of small islands. ''You need to kill an Ice Wraith at Serpentstone Island, survive the journey up there and back, and the Wraith of course, and you're in.''

''And how do you know the Ice Wraith I kill is from that island?'' Galmar smirked, the Breton had an intellect, which was somewhat of a breath of fresh air compared to all the idiots who just blindly followed orders.

''Because I'll be sending somebody with you, they'll be able to vouch for the honesty of the teeth you bring back. Meet them outside in fifteen minutes and they'll be ready to accompany you. You are dismissed.''

One of the benefits of being a migrant was that you never had much stuff to carry around. With only a small chest holding all of his worldly possessions it had been easy for him to prepare for Serpentstone Isle. In his knapsack he put a few healing and stamina potions enough rations for the week long trek and another set of furs, just in case they were caught in a blizzard. He had slung his bag over one shoulder and attached his sword to his back and now he sat on the steps of the Palace of the Kings, five minutes early.

With a few minutes spare he was left with his thoughts. He was slightly nervous and on edge about travelling with someone, when you travelled with another your back was covered and there was more security, but also more risk. When you were alone you only looked out for yourself, when with a comrade you had to watch their back aswell as your own, you made sure they got out of a scrape unharmed and with all limbs attached. When with a shield-sibling you can't only think of yourself, Adair had been unfortunate enough to learn that the hard way...

Adair looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, coming towards him was a woman. As she drew closer he managed to get a proper look at her. She was really no different to any Nord he had met, fair skinned, blue eyed, flaxen hair. She was dressed in the usual Stormcloak armour with a mace at her hip and a shield across her back. She had a long scar that ran threw her lips, and surprising him the woman was smiling as she stopped in front of him. Adair stood and found that their eyes were level, the woman offered her fur gloved hand, Adair took it and pumped once, her grip was as strong as his.

''Name's Svedi.''

''Adair.''

With the snow swirling around their necks and ankles Adair walked through Windhelm's great amber gates with his Sheild-sister at his side.

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><p><strong>Damn! It feels good to be back. :D I intended this chapter to be about Ulfric and Lianna, but for some reason that chapter would write so I decided to switch around the chapters. Does anyone even remember Svedi? Don't worry if you don't we last saw her in chapter 12 (15 chapters ago, yeah that isn't bad planning...) I know after such a long wait this chapter might seem a bit...eh...dull considering nothing much happens, but the next chapter should be up very soon. Oh and if you review I will actually reply :D 'Cause I just figured out you can reply to reviews (yup 6 months in and I just realise that) Adieu for now!<br>**

**~Marie :)  
><strong>


	28. A Step in the Right Direction

Hey guys been a while *dodges thrown chair* I know I'm a horrible person for not updating *dodges thrown desk* but I've been **really** busy with my final 3 weeks of college and writers block. Yeah I know excuses, excuses. I've been away for a while and I'm sorry it won't happen again, I promise!

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

A Step in the Right Direction

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><p>Dark skies tell no lies<br>Like your stormy eyes  
>If it's cold tonight<br>I'm here now  
>x<br>It's stormy out  
>So baby let me in<br>I can help, I know I can  
>Together we're never gonna fall<br>It's stormy now  
>But the sun's gonna shine again<br>Even the worst storms gotta end  
>We're better if we weather it all<br>Together we're never gonna fall

Stormy-Hedley

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><p>A log in the fire caved inwards with a large crack sending sputtering sparks flying. The fire's glow threw long dark shapes across the kitchen walls, the golden hot warmth chasing away the dark shadows.<p>

Lianna sat on the chair staring into the fire, her knees to her chest and her chin upon them. She had pulled the Jarl's cloak tighter around her, she wasn't cold the cloak just...comforted her in a way that she couldn't quite describe. The fine cloak was thick and wonderfully warm, and being made for a much larger wearer it swamped her small frame. She had to push the sleeves up or they would completely cover her hands. The cloak's scent filled her nose and she unconsciously took deeper breaths to take in the scent of the original wearer.

Looking up the woman saw the Jarl holding a mug out to her, she hesitated expecting the mug to contain something alcoholic. At her apprehension Ulfric pressed the mug into the mage's hands.

''Drink.'' He said. The girl flinched at the harsh coldness of his words, it sounded like a command. Ulfric must have noticed as he continued softer and kinder. ''It will do you good.'' The girl took the mug from him, surprisingly, the mug was warm and pleasantly clammy against her palms. She look into the mug and found the bright frothy clouds of hot milk.

''Milk?''

''With honey.'' The Jarl replied, before taking a drink from his own mug.

Following suit she took a deep sip and the hot earthy sweetness of the beverage filled her senses. Lianna closed her eyes in a moment of bliss. _Delicious! _Ulfric was right, the drink did her good. Opening her eyes she found the Jarl staring down into the bottom of the mug, lost in thought. She remained silent letting the man continue with his brooding, with the fire's light splashed across his face Lianna could see that the milk's white dampness clung to his moustache. She had to try very hard not to smile, strange she had not felt the desire to smile genuinely in a while. Funny, that he had made her smile, made her happy. (Even if it was at his own expense.) For days ago she hated him and now...she was sure she hated him no longer, but what then? How _did_ she feel about him? She was snapped from her thoughts when she saw him watching her, watching him. Ah, how awkward. Lianna moved her eyes from him, cheeks hot.

He was patient, waiting for her to speak. She supposed he understood what she was feeling and understood that she could only tell him in her own time. Stealing her courage and quelling her nervous trembling fear she began.

''I was captured by the Thalmor on the fifth of Hearthfire, just inside Whiterun Hold.'' The Jarl's brow furrowed and a troubled look crossed his face.

''That was not days after you last left here?''

''Indeed it was.'' The Jarl's frown deepened and there was a flash of emotion in his eyes. Ice gripped the base of the Breton's spine, he was sure to ask her what she was doing in Whiterun Hold not even days after learning of the pending attack. With a horrible sinking feeling the woman realised she wouldn't have a virtuous answer to give him.

''How did they- How did those bastards get so close to my Hold.'' Ulfric growled, a thought spoken aloud. Lianna felt dizzy, he didn't suspect her. He trusted her. _And he is a fool to do so. _Lianna thought with a spasm of guilt and shame.

''I was taken to the Thalmor Embassy,'' Ulfric's eyes flickered with a distant emotion, a memory. Her throat was tight and her mouth suddenly dry. ''I was tortured for a month, until I managed to escape - with some help.''

''Why were you captured?''

''It wasn't because I was the Dragonborn, I don't think they knew about that. It was because I was involved in something the Thalmor wanted information on.'' The Jarl pressed her no further and the Breton was thankful for that. Lianna felt strangely lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Lianna raised her eyes to Jarl expectantly. ''And what is your story Jarl?''

''It was during the war, I was a legionnaire.'' Here he stopped noting the woman's look of surprise, a smirk twitched at his lips. But he continued on, not allowing her to ask the question that was written all over her face. Another time perhaps, but not now. ''My platoon was ambushed and captured, they killed the others, I was left alive as I was useful. The son of a Jarl and with plenty of important information. I suffered at the hands of Elenwen for weeks before they allowed me to escape.'' _Elenwen! The ambassador for the Aldmeri Dominion! _''It was because of the information that they _extracted _from me that the White-Gold Tower fell to the elves.'' His omission hung heavily in the air, his eyes level watching for her reaction.

''Surely not?'' Lianna said her brow folded in confusion. ''Are you sure that the elves did not plant the idea in your head to-''

''I am not some ignorant imbecile who believes twisted lies. Or do you think me so?'' The man growled dangerously, Lianna surprised by his sudden flash of anger shrank away from the man. She had pressed a sore point it seemed. _So his guilt runs so deep. _

''No.'' The woman muttered to the floor afraid to meet his eye. ''I do not think that.'' A log snapped loudly in the fire. She heard the Jarl give a sigh and looked up to see him eyeing her strangely. She didn't expect an apology explaining his turn of temper, neither did she want one.

''Do you get nightmares, Ulfric?'' The question came as a surprise to the Jarl and he looked at her with a quizzical look upon his face.

''Aye, both then and...more recently.'' Ulfric was surprised at how easily he had admitted that to her, it seemed they had formed some kind of strange bond between them in this moment. There were no walls between them, he was no Jarl and she was no Dragonborn. They were just victims, survivors talking.

''Me too...I can't sleep, I don't sleep. In fear of it, of the nightmares that take me back...'' The wobble was back in her voice. His heart lurched for her, to go through that, to be so young. The girl looked up at him ''Is there a way to...stop them?'' Ulfric thought back to how he had dealt with it, he had drank. A lot. He would drink to oblivion to not see the nightmares. Needless to say it hadn't been the best way to deal with the problem.

''I do not know Dragonborn of any cure. But I believe talking about it is a step in the right direction.''

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><p>I've been trying to write this chapter for about four weeks. And I've finally done it. Thank. God. I don't know why but I just hit a wall whenever I tried to write this chapter and it really infuriates me because this is an important chapter in the story and in their relationship.. AHASOGEBSW! But after writing for three hours I'm gonna have to be happy with what I wrote. :I Sorry it's a bit shit, the next chapter should be up next month. I kid, I <strong><em>KID<em>**. The next chapter should be up as soon as I write it. Which means in a couple of days, and if it isn't you all have permission to come find me and kill me. Now it's a little passed midnight and I'm tired so I'm going to bed.

Peace!

~Marie :)


	29. Promises

Because I didn't mention it last chapter I want to say a **HUGE THANK YOU** to everyone, we got to **100**(+) reviews guys! :D Never expected this story to get so popular, so thank you :3 *gives everyone a hug* because I couldn't have gotten this far without you guys.

This chapter was written out of a mixture of love and fear for Galmar, I mean I love the bastard. But he could cave in my head without a second thought. But he has got to be one of my fav characters, after all he's the other half of what makes Team Stormcloak so awesome!

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Promises

He had her trapped. His large build made all the more imposing in the dark narrow corridors of the Palace of the Kings. The different animal fangs he wore around his neck caught the light from a nearby torch, making him look all the more dangerous. He was a barbarian, a man how lived for the glory of battle, a man who laughed at his enemy's demise. She had fearful respect for the man before her.

''Galmar?'' Lianna asked, the Nord's eyes narrowed with disdain. When the man did not reply a small smirk flickered at her lips, though her eyes watched him intensely for any sign of an attack. ''Have you got something to tell me, because standing there, staring at me won't make me any prettier.'' The torch light made the man's pale eyes glow a angry gold.

He took a step towards her. He was bigger than her, stronger heavier and far more experienced. She was faster, with that advatage she could maybe land a few hits, she'd hit the back of the legs, the chest, the back of his neck . He roughly grabbed her by the front of her robes and lifted her up above the floor with ease. _Aim at his face, eyes, throat, jugular. _Her eyes were level with his now, his burned with such intense disdain it nearly scared her, though she didn't show it. His voice was low and dangerous when he spoke.

''You should be thankful that the Jarl allowed you back here.'' Galmar growled. ''If I hadn't given Ulfric my word I would have already beaten the shit out of you by now. Let me tell you this, little witch. I may not be able to touch you this time, but make one more false move, one false word and the world will have lost a Dragonborn. Give me a reason to believe you threaten Ulfric or the Stormcloaks, Dragonborn and you won't have a destiny to worry about. Because I'll end your destiny. Permanently.''

He didn't care that she was the Dragonborn, he didn't care that her destiny was to save the world. He didn't _care._ For a small moment of folly Lianna was thankful for that. He was the only he didn't give a shit about the dragon souls that were held in her body, she was no walking legend to him. Just a woman who was very close to over stepping a line. The only thing stopping him from killing her right then and there was his word to Ulfric. And nothing else. He let go of her robes, she landed cleanly on her feet. Albeit shaking. She would need to be careful, _very_ careful in future. She thought as she watched the large man walk away from her to stunned to speak. Galmar's outburst had not simply been a threat, but a promise.

...

Lianna entered the Palace of the Kings and found that it was surprisingly empty, save for Jorleif and the Jarl, the former of which was sat at the large bench that ran down the middle of the long room doing some obscure paper work. The latter was lounging in his throne, face impassive as ever. As she approached the throne Ulfric looked up at her, there was nothing in his eyes that displayed any new familiarity. Nothing that eluded to the previous nights conversations or any new bond between them. A flawless actor. The night before, when they had both gone to their respective chambers Lianna had slept deeply and without any elves in her dreams baying for her blood. Rather, she had dreamt of a tall silvery bear with the smell of fire smoke, pine trees and the smell of man about its thick pale fur.

''Dragonborn.'' The Jarl addressed the woman with her title. ''What is that you need, I am a busy man.'' The Breton knew not whether the man was joking or not so let the remark be.

''My Jarl,'' If they were to play the game of addressing each other with their respective titles, she might as well join in. ''I look for my brother, I have not seen him all day.''

''That would be because he hasn't been here for a number of days, Dragonborn.''

''Where has he gone?''

Ulfric stroked his beard thoughtfully ''I am surprised, I thought he would have told you. How rather rash.''

Lianna grimaced ''I suppose it is a family trait.''

''Indeed, he wanted to join our cause so Galmar sent him on a test, to see whether he is worthy.''

_He joined the Stormcloaks? _Lianna's mind was reeling, this was not good. Not good at all. _Do the Gods wish for my demise?_ The woman's gut plummeted to the balls of her feet. It was one thing spying on the Stormcloaks, it was something completely when your brother joins the organisation that you're secretly working against. Maybe this was the God's way of punishment for agreeing to become a spy. ''In that case could you pass on a message when you see him next?'' She continued smoothly, determined not betray any of her feelings of panic and worry.

Ulfric leant forward slightly ''Which would be?''

''I'm travelling to Riften this day.'' The Nord noted the satchel on her shoulder. ''And It could be quite a while before I see him next.''

The Jarl nodded ''I'll make sure he receives the message.''

''Thank you, Jarl.'' The woman smiled slightly, she turned to leave and had walked a few paces before Ulfric's voice called out.

''Riften is the underbelly of Skyrim, I advise you to keep an eye on your pockets. The city is full of shadows and cut-throats, so make sure you take care.''

Lianna turned fully to face Ulfric, a genuine smile on her lips. ''I promise.'' She laughed softly and she exited through the great long doors.

Jorleif, who had been watching the whole exchange, watched as the woman left through the Palace doors and then turned to the Jarl a bewildered look upon his face. The Jarl caught his eye and his brow raised.

''Jorleif, does something trouble you?''

''No sir.'' The steward replied turning back around to continue with his paper work, daring not to think of the exchange any more.

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><p>Short chapter is short. But! Worry not! The next chapter will be long, and I mean <em>long. <em>So don't worry. Please leave a review, not matter how short. I want to know what you think, basically any form of feedback is appreciated. :) The next chapter should be up by the middle of next week.

Have a good one!

~Marie :)


	30. Impressions

Ah, good old main storyline plot. Haven't seen that in a while.

I would suggest playing _What the water gave me_ by _Florence and the Machine_ while reading the last little section.

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Impressions

''Can I ask you a question?''

''Shoot.''

''Why'd you join the Stormcloaks?''

Svedi looked back at the Breton; it was a question that everyone asked sooner or later. It was the morning of their fourth day travelling for Serpent Stone Island, the night before the two had made camp beneath the dizzying tall pines trees for the last time on their journey to the frigid island. The miles that now stretched out in front of them were void of trees or any foliage. And with no trees to buffer out the harsh winds the two had pulled on their second pair of furs over their armour.

''I didn't want to sit back while a Civil War was ravaging my homeland, I wanted to do something. So I did, I joined the Stormcloaks, needless to say my parents weren't too pleased with me decision.''

''Why? They didn't support the Stormcloaks?''

''No, Pa was a big supporter of Ulfric. It's just... I think they didn't like the idea of their little girl getting involved in a war. I mean, I was a farmer's daughter, what did I know about politics? Or war?''

''But he let you go in the end.''

''After he taught me how to use a shield and a mace,'' She thumbed to the shield strapped to her back and the mace at her hip. ''I was on the next cart to Windhelm with my Ma's and Pa's blessing.''

The two didn't say much after that, keeping to their own thoughts as they wadded through the shin deep snow that was still too fresh to take their weight. The sun was high in the sky by the time the pair reached a natural rise. Judging from the height of the sun Adair guessed it to be a few hours passed noon. Hearing a scrabbling sound Adair looked up to see the Nord woman had leapt up the steep rise. From the tracks she had left in the snow it was apparent that she had relied on both her feet and gloved hands to make it to the top of the rise.

She was now stood at the top shading the sun from her eyes looking out into the horizon. The sun caught the woman's hair, the colour of wheat and it shone brilliantly in the mute light. Adair was glad that the pretty farmer's daughter turned Stormcloak had accompanied him on this journey. At first he had been apprehensive, but his feelings of doubt had quickly snubbed out when they had run into a couple of bandits not a few miles north of Windhelm.

_Snow was beginning to fall around them as they made their along the cobbled road. Quite suddenly three men stepped out onto the road in front of Adair and Svedi. The bandits -two Nords and an Imperial- were dressed in a mixture of fur armour and old heavily worn leather armour. The Imperial -apparently the leader- took a long look at Svedi and had smirked revealing that he was missing his two front teeth. _

_''Lookie here boys, mister and missus out on a walk.'' The Imperial drawled, the two Nords snickered stupidly. Svedi and Adair had remained silent, faces set somewhere between neutral and disgust. The Imperial addressed Svedi again his eyes rolled over her, from the incline of the man's head it was obvious his line of sight was directed towards her breasts. ''Now lassie what ya doin' a Breton for? Everythin' about 'em is small ain't it?'' Adair would be lying if the comment didn't hurt his pride. ''I'm sure we would be far more satisfying, and a lot more fun.'' _

_One of the Nords tapped the Imperial on the shoulder, the Imperial threw him a lazy look. 'Birk, she's Stormcloak.'' The Imperial looked at the Nord then to Svedi and then back at the Nord. ''Once again, Eld your level of observance has floored me.'' Birk replied flatly. Birk's eyes made their attention back to Svedi._

_''Stormcloak eh? I've always like a girl in uniform. So what do you say lassie?'' Svedi had remained passive and rather indifferent throughout the whole -one sided- conversation. She now stared at the leering men, a small smirk curling at her lips. The woman stepped slowly towards the Imperial, she had forced a sway into her hips. Adair could only watch and hope to every nine divine that the girl knew what she was doing. She stopped not even a foot in front of the Imperial, who was smiling victoriously. Now she was closer Birk could see her face, he hadn't bedded a pretty girl like her in a while. She would have been damn near beautiful if it hadn't been for the ugly long scar that ran down through her lips. ''Ready for some fun lass.'' The man breathed heavily. _

_Svedi smirked, her voice low ''Oh yeah, I'm gonna have fun.'' Not a heartbeat pulsed in the time between her words and the hand which pulled the mace off of her hip she wrenched it straight up into the Birk's jaw. The mace punched through skin, bone and teeth like it was butter, the Imperial feel backwards screaming wildly. Eld dove for Svedi's open flank. Her shield was still strapped to her back. The Nord's cheap iron was thrust into the air seeking purchase in the woman's side. There came a crack of connecting metal, as Adair's greatsword intercepted the Eld's swing. The Nord gave a roar as he wildly swung the sword above his fair haired head. Eld's wild swing had left him open to attack and Adair wasn't going to let the chance pass him by. Adair's sword was thrust through the man's abdomen, just shy of his naval, Adair pulled the blade up through into his chest until there came the resistance of the Nord's ribs. Adair pulled the blade away from the man and for a moment he remained standing eyes fixed and wild mouth sill open in a roar. Then quite suddenly the man buckled onto his knees and then his face. _

_Adair turned adrenaline humming through his veins to see Svedi take down the last remaining bandit. Her shield was raised in front of her chest and face,, the man sung his axe wildly, the man's efforts weren't getting him anywhere. Her defence remained strong and unyielding, Adair was amazed at her strength. The man was probably double her weight, yet she took every blow he flung at her with her shield not even staggering backwards. The male Nord stopped his frantic barrage suddenly, his lurched forward axe aimed at her unprotected right side. This was his fatal mistake, in his sweep for her side the man's face was lowered to the same height as Svedi's shield. A smirk flashed across the woman's face as she brought the shield straight into the man's face, there came the snap of a broken nose. The bandit staggered back winded, Svedi leapt forward and putting all her weight behind her mace ripped it through the bandit's neck. The bandit fell to the ground with little more than a thud. _

_''You were right,'' Svedi turned to addressed the Imperial very near to death at her feet ''that was fun.''_

It was safe to say that the farmer's daughter could handle herself. Again there came the sound of scrabbling and the crunch of snow, the woman was descending the rise. Svedi's boot must have caught on a stone hidden beneath the snow as suddenly the woman barrelled into him, making the man stumble back. He steadied the Nord in his arms, she was warm and soft and he felt slightly disappointed when she drew away from him all too quickly, laughing.

Svedi ruffled the snow from her hair, her cheeks pink both from the cold and from their unexpected contact. ''Sorry.''

Adair offered her an abashed grin ''S'alright.'' as he shook the snow from his hair. ''So what did you see, _Capitaine_?'' Adair paused surprised, it wasn't often that his Bretonic accent surfaced. Only when embarrassed or excited did it really become prominent. It was now his turn for his cheeks to turn pink, though she must have noticed Svedi didn't show any sign of hearing his slip of tongue. She continued walking further down what he supposed had once been a road, as if she hadn't fallen into his arms. She didn't even turn to face him when she spoke. _Nord's and their stubborn pride. _

''Serpent Stone Island, If we make good speed we can reach it just before nightfall. Then you'll take on a Wraith in the morning.''

''Why not kill the Wraith as soon as we get there?'' Adair asked, as he caught up to her.

''Because, you don't want to face an Ice Wraith after dark, the things are damn near invisible as it is in daylight. Try and kill 'em after dark and you're just asking to be shredded to pieces.''

''Oh.''

...

The large Nord known as Maul was leant against a wall in The Bee and Bard his eyes watching the stairs keenly. Maven had not allowed him upstairs while she chatted with the Dunmer, the elf had been like all the other strays that the Guild picked up nowadays. That was until the elf managed to slip into Goldenglow. It hadn't taken long for all of Riften to start flapping their gums about the new _'natural' 'the best in a decade'_ and of course after that it hadn't taken much time for Maven to take an interest in the Dunmer. Maul almost wanted the elf to fuck up, just once, so everybody would shut up about the bleedin' Dunmer, 'cos honestly, it was doing his head in.

''Maul, you look like a dog without a master.'' Came a velvet soft voice. Maul looked up shortly ready to punch the livin' day lights out of the owners voice but his temper was immediately forgotten when he looked up. Sapphire. She was the only one who he wouldn't punch the bleedin' day lights out of. 'Cause he had been sweet on her once, it wasn't like he still liked her or nothing. Sapphire leant back against the wall in a similar fashion to Maul.

''Maven's talkin' to your little prodigy.'' He replied gruffly.

Sapphire gave an exasperated groan. ''Can we please talk about something else, the little shit is all I hear about in the Flagon.''

''Sure.'' Maul replied. He racked his trying to think of a subject, then he remembered. ''A Breton came into the city today.''

''I hope this has a point.''

'' 'Cause it does.'' Maul said throwing Sapphire a sideways glance of slight annoyance. Sapphire made a slow motion for him to continue, so he did. ''She walked through the gate and I took no notice of 'er cause she didn't look like anythi' special. But she started asking questions.''

''Oh?'' Sapphire now interested leaned forward.

''Yeah, she was askin' questions about lookin' for a man.''

''Aren't we all.'' Sapphire said flatly. Maul winced slightly, but continued as if he hadn't heard her.

''She was lookin' for a way down into the Ratway.''

''Now that is interesting.'' Sapphire whispered more to herself than anybody else.

''Just thought you should know. You don't want anybody else sniffing around, Mjoll's bad enough.''

''Do you know anything else about her, Maul?'' Sapphire asked urgently, he always liked it when she said his name.

''She's a mage,''

''That's it?''

''That's it.''

Sapphire pushed off the wall with a swing of her hips, damn her hips... ''Thanks Maul, I'll make sure everyone keeps their eyes open.''

Maul grunted and nodded, he watched the woman leave. He always hated to see her leave, but loved to watch her go. From above he heard Maven's sharp voice making its way down the stairs. His eyes flickered to the stairs for a second before they did one final sweep of the inn to find any trace of Sapphire. But the young woman had vanished, she was always good at that.

...

''I thought it would be frozen over.'' Adair said, shocked to see a great blue expanse of sea dotted and splintered with icebergs and half formed ice sheets. Rather than a flat stretch of ice that he had expected. The dark sea separated them from Serpent Stone Island, whose shadow loomed tall and imposing before them.

''This is the Ghosts Sea, it never freezes over. Some say the souls who died here centuries ago refuse to let the water freeze. The refuse to be forgotten under the ice.''

''So how do we get across?''

''Swim.'' Svedi replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the whole world. Adair let a full second pass to make sure he had heard her right, before he sharply turned to the woman.

''Are you _insane?_ You want to _swim _across _that_.'' Adair shouted pointing towards the dark water.

''Do have any other ideas?'' Svedi asked her arms crossed beneath her breasts.

''No, but there has to be another way. There had to be.'' Adair persisted.

That is how the Breton managed to find himself staring back along the shoreline, Svedi just a spot in the distance. Where he had left her, she had said she would wait until he returned back with no more of an idea than when he had left. Adair had hoped he would find something, anything to prove that he was right, a discarded boat or maybe a way across the ice. But no there was nothing. The ice sheets only stretched out about hundred paces into the sea. And all the boats he had found had large holes ripped through their sides or were completely rotten with salt water. He hated to admit it but the only way across was to swim across. If he was to live through this he would personally ring Galmar's neck.

When he returned back to Svedi obviously empty handed the woman had simply said ''Told you so,'' in the most matter-of-fact way possible. She then informed him that she had been mapping their way through the ice sheets and splinters to make sure the current wouldn't take them and throw them onto the deadly shafts of ice and rock that ran along the shoreline like a set of jagged teeth. She lead them out onto the safest looking ice sheet that jutted out into the sea, the two walked in a single file line and Adair was very conscious of the ice swaying and groaning beneath their weight. But miraculously the ice held them. Svedi stopped abruptly a few paces away from the edge of the ice sheet.

''Right I think this is far as we can walk.''

Adair's gaze was directed towards the island that stood before them but a few hundred paces away. The Stormcloaks had to be the stupidest or bravest group of people he'd ever met. If they were willing to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere simply because Ulfric said so, the Jarl definitely had a bunch of very dedicated warriors at his beck and call. He highly doubted Imperial soldiers would swim across a freezing lake in sub-zero temperatures just because Tullius said so.

''What are you waiting for? C'mon.''

Adair forgot his musing quickly as he -like his companion- removed his over furs and his steel armour leaving him in a simple leather jerkin lined with soft bob-cat fur. Swimming across wearing all his armour and furs would not only add weight to him, making him tire more quickly but also damaged the armour and water log the furs that were vital in the freezing air.

''Ready?'' Svedi asked shooting the man a nervous grin. The Nord had removed the blue sash and mail and now like her companion was only left with a leather jerkin.  
>''As I'll ever be.'' Adair offered looking down into the water feeling dread festering in his stomach.<p>

The two left their belongs in two piles as near to the water as the ice would allow. So after plunging into the icy depths they would need to reach back so they could hold their belongs, -furs, armours, satchels and all- above their heads.

Adair took in slow breath through his nose, he opened his eyes to the heavens for a moment before closing them.

''One...'' Svedi's voice whispered ''...Two...'' Adair reached out his hand out to the girl, Svedi took it without any hesitation. They squeezed their fingers together curling, entwining fingers tightly. There was no sound in Adair's ears, just a dull ringing sound resonated somewhere between his ears. ''...Three.''

Man and woman stepped forward into the black waiting water. The cold rushed up their legs burning into their noses, crushing their lungs. Eyes squeezed tightly shut against the chill's clawing nails. Legs flexxed and push upwards, towards light and air. Hands reached out, out of the water. Faces hit the air gasping and panting, the man opened his eyes to see the woman whose hand he is still holding.

**_Time it took us_**  
><strong><em> To where the water was<em>**  
><strong><em> That's what the water gave me<em>**  
><strong><em> And time goes quicker<em>**  
><strong><em> Between the two of us<em>**  
><strong><em> Oh, my love, don't forsake me<em>**  
><strong><em> Take what the water gave me<em>**

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><p><em>Next chapter: Brynjolf will make an appearance :D <em>

_I'm working on lengthening chapters since they've been short as of late._

_I hope everyone enjoyed!  
><em>

_~Marie :)  
><em>


	31. The Heist

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so late computer problems have left me unable to write and I'm currently writing this on my dad's computer as mine is getting fixed (fingers crossed) hopefully when it's back I'll be able to update on a far regular basis. But until then...

This chapter was a lot of fun, Riften is one of my favourite towns and the Thieves Guild quest line is one of my favs. Oh yeah and a certain red haired Nord who had me at lass~

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

The Heist

To any passerby who knew very little of the capital, Riften would have appeared sleepy and quiet. With its slow moving canal, modest wooden buildings. Nestled at the foot of a large mountain range with its shady autumnal leaves swaying lazily in the breeze. It did not possess the same air of greatness or fine tall buildings like Windhelm or Whiterun with hundreds of history in them. Riften might have appeared quiet and half forgotten under the shadow of amber trees and shouldered by large mountains to passersby. But those passersby would be sourly mistaken. And probably while contemplating the surroundings and the relaxing rush of the canal would have had their pockets emptied and purses bleed of their gold. Riften had been home to thieves for as long as the city had stood, the Thieves Guild have once had great power not only in Riften but across Tamriel with connections with the Dark Brotherhood and many powerful and influential families they had been a force to be reckoned with. _Had_ though, for the past decades the Thieves Guild had slipped into a spiralling decline, it is said that the higher you climb the harder you fall, this was no more true than with the Thieves Guild. Their Guild master murdered by one of their own in cold blood, the perpetrator continued to slip through their fingers five and twenty years later. And since then their luck had run dry, things had been dire. But that was beginning to change, a new recruit had entered amongst the thieves and finally it appeared with this new arrival that their run of bad luck was turning the other direction.

Brynjolf was at his stall in the small market place, as of late the stall had been unmanned but with most of the thieves out on one job or another it had left the guild rather empty, and not wanting to really do all the paper work that Mercer had told him to do he had sort refugee in the excuse of manning the stall for the morning. Mercer had agreed, or rather he hadn't disagreed to any strong degree, it wasn't like the stall was really important it never really brought in much money. Most the city's residents had learnt that the majority of the wares at Brynjolf's stall were more often than not were a scam one way or another and so gave the stall a wide birth. It was only the day trippers that were gullible enough to buy his different fake potions and false treasures. No, Brynjolf suspected that Mercer wanted someone to keep an eye open for whoever was sniffing around. It wasn't too often that they had anybody snooping around the Ratway, most law abiding folk kept as far away from the sewer as physically possible. But then it wasn't the law abiding folk that you had to watch out for, Mercer wanted to know who was poking their nose into where they didn't belong, be it a possible mark, ally or enemy and then deal with them accordingly.

A few hours passed at it was getting close to noon, business had been slow and Brynjolf was considering going back to the flagon to start on the paper work before Mercer really got angry about it. He began to pack away what remained of his merchandise, Falmer Blood Elixir-A weak healing potion mixed with a red dye, an assortment of gold jewellery-Simple copper trinkets plated with fools good and not even worth their own weight. But the thief stopped and not wholly knowing why, he looked up. Delvin would have called it some kind of luck, Brynjolf thought it a coincidence, for as he looked up and momentarily drifted through the crowd his eyes stopped on a person he was not familiar with. Brow furrowed he watched them for a moment, he knew the faces of Riften and this was one he did not recognise. From her slight frame he guessed she was a woman and she appeared to be wearing mage's robes. Gears started clicking into place as the woman turned into his general direction while admiring one of the stalls, she was a Breton. She ticked every box for the description of whoever had been sniffing about. He watched her intently as she made her way around the stalls obviously only half interested, when she came near enough to the Nord he called out to her.

''Hey, lass.''

The woman's head snapped up sharply and eyes searched the crowd for who had called her, she met eyes with Brynjolf. He beckoned her over with a discrete motion. The Breton was hesitant, her brow furrowed, apparently wondering whether to walk up to him or not. She must have made a decision for the former as she slowly began to make her way towards Brynjolf and his small stand. Gallus himself had taught Brynjolf how to read people when he had been just a fledgling thief, she was guarded in her pace and posture unsure of what exactly was going to happen between them. There was a certain lightness in her footwork and the way she seemed to easily glide through the crowd not brushing one shoulder, she had skill in sneak. Brynjolf's interest was pricked. There was something in the way she held her head and the slant of her shoulders, she had been trained to hold herself like a noble -head forward, shoulders back, back straight. So she was a noblewoman. _No, at least... not anymore. _There was dirt on her face and her robes appeared to have seen combat, and her posture was half-hearted as if she cared not for it anymore but was unable to forget how to hold herself. _So, a runaway. How very... interesting.  
><em>

She stopped a few paces with the counter of the stall between them. Brynjolf leant forward and made a motion to come closer, she slowly inclined her head but moved no closer.

''So you're the little lady who's been looking for trouble.''

''I had no intention of finding trouble, I'm looking for an...acquaintance, who is hiding in the Ratway. An old guy by the name of Esbern.''

The name rang a bell, he was one of many shacked up in the Warrens, he paid a pretty sum of gold to keep visitors away. ''So I've heard, lass. But the thing is lass we don't just let anybody start having a snoop around for an, _acquaintance._ It would cause us far too much trouble.''

''You know where he is?'' The Breton leaned forward quickly, voice rising a note or two.

Brynjolf suddenly felt a flash of genius as an idea took root in his mind. A slow smirk spread across his lips. ''Maybe I do and maybe I don't. I can't quite recall, lass.''

The woman's hand twitched and a flicker of heat bounced in her palm. 'I'm sure I can help you jog you're memory.'' Her voice was low, however this Esbern guy was he was obviously important.

''Now, now lass. There will be no need for that.'' Brynjolf said slowly as she closed her hand, snuffing out the flame. ''How about I tell you were your man if exactly, better yet I'll _show _you. For price of course. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.''

''Name your price.''

''A sword.''

''A sword?''

''Not just any sword lass, this sword belongs to Mjoll the Lioness. She's been causing a bit of trouble for us and taking her sword would be a good way to tell her to leave the Thieves Guild well alone. Bring me her sword and I'll personally take you to this Esbern.''

''Deal.'' The woman outstretched her hand to the man, the two shook before quickly dropping their hands. ''I hope you're a man of your word, thief.''

A smirk twitched at the Nord's lips ''And I hope you're a woman of yours, mage.''

When the woman had vanished into the crowd Brynjolf allowed himself a quiet laugh as he packed away his merchandise. He was surprised that the woman had accepted his offer so quickly, she was clearly insane or the bravest sod he'd ever met. He had set her a hard deal because he suspected she wouldn't take it, but her determination had surprised him slightly. He had originally thought she would accept but then clear out of the city after she had realise the magnitude of the task she had been set. But it seemed he was wrong, it seemed like she was determined to do the job. But she would probably fail to break into the Lioness's home and would probably be thrown into a cell for a while and then, hopefully, leave the Ratway alone. And also trying to break into the Mjoll's house to steal her sword, any Nord's pride and joy, would make Mjoll think twice about messing with the Thieves Guild. Or it would just damage her pride and piss the woman off. Then they would be free of any distractions, after all it was far more affiant to kill two birds with one stone.

...

She had known striking a deal with a thief wasn't the smartest thing to do, and it hadn't been her plan at all. After asking around she had found that when people wanted to vanish they took up residence in the Warrens an inner maze of madmen and paranoids in the heart of the Ratway, the city under the city. She had planned to go straight through to the Warrens but decided ultimately against it as she would need to pass through the Ragged Flagon to get there. And she wasn't stupid enough to walk straight into a unfamiliar place full of thieves ready to cut her throat and her purse. Sure, striking a deal with a thief wasn't the best thing to do, but then why did she have any right to the moral high ground? She was a spy and it was likely she would be considered worse, a thief may well steal your gold but at least he doesn't parade himself as an enemy hidden beneath the mask of a friend.

Lianna pressed herself against the wall of the building adjacent to Mjoll's home, the house was neither grand nor particular humble. Checking that no guards could see her she slipped through the shadows to the front door of the building. She tested the door and found it unlocked, any seasoned thief would now to keep away from unlocked doors, as it was very likely the proprietor was still inside. But Lianna knowing very little of thievery and so slid through the unlocked door without a second thought. Lianna stepped through into the home, as a quick once over of the room she found not what she was looking for. The room was a large open space with a fire pit in the centre with chairs placed around it, further back there was an assortment of chairs gathered around a table and behind that a set of stairs, one going up and one going down. The room was dotted with a few personal trinkets but otherwise was rather plain and held no particular items of wealth. Lianna made for the stairs and up to the first floor. She was met with a wide corridor leading of to the right and two the left, she chose left and so she found herself in front of a large oak door. She pushed it open slowly, mindfully of any loud hinges. The room was a obviously a bedroom, it was a small and narrow room with a simply bed and wardrobe taking up much of the space. Lianna was about to turn around and continue her search elsewhere but something caught her eye. A glass case half hidden under the bed.

Lianna wasted no time in fully sliding it out from under the bed. When the case sat proudly in front of her she knew she had found her target. A flame jump out of her fingertip she intensified the heat and ran the flame against the lock, the flame easily licked through the simply metal of the lock. The lock dropped to the wooden floor with a clunk. Lianna raised the lid of the case and for a moment her breath stalled. Though she knew nothing of swords she knew that the one before was probably worth more than she was. The sword was a handsome thing of forged glass resting on a plush red cushion, Lianna reached for it, gripping its pommel unsure and gauche with the weapon as she lifted it from the case. The blade was foreign to her magic wielding hands, and she was nervous with her handling of it though her apprehension was quickly lost to mild surprise as she gripped the hilt, she felt magic thrumming and pulsing through it. Her fascination with the blade was such that she failed to notice the owner of the sword enter the room, until her shadow fell over the Dragonborn's small frame and a blade was raised to the back of her neck.

''You have three seconds to drop my sword, thief.'' A dangerous voice growled.

* * *

><p>Run Lianna, run for life.<p> 


	32. The Wraith

I'm back baby! :D And so is my computer! Now, *cracks knuckles* **let's do this. **

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

The Wraith

Adair threw himself out of the water landing with great relish on the solid icy turf of Serpentstone Island. His was blue and red and he huffed profusely as he quickly scrambled for his furs and armour, and the warmth they provided. His fingers were gauche and numb from chill and so made the buckles on his armour near impossible. One he was struggling with now was the buckle of his braces, the wet leather slipped through his fingers for the third time, making the man curse loudly.

''Let me.''

Adair looked up to see Svedi kneeling before him; she had already managed to don her Stormcloak Cuirass and over furs. Adair offered her his arm and braces. He watched as she deftly pulled the leather straps into their buckles with ease. For a moment he was puzzled as to how she was so easily dextrose after swimming through a partially frozen sea. But, then he remembered that she was a Nord, and she was far hardier against chill than he.

''Thanks.'' He said as he examined her handy work.

''You're welcome.'' The woman replied as she rose, he watched as she looked to the sky and the sun that was low in the sky. ''We should set up camp before it gets dark.''

...

A frustrated groan puckered the silence. Adair looked from his salted horker meat to see Svedi angrily riffling through her pack. He continued chewing in silence for a few moments.

''What's wrong?'' He finally shouted across to the Nord.

''I've lost the tinderbox.'' Svedi replied a little too loudly. ''I think- It must have fallen out while we were swimming.'' Svedi continued her brow knitted as she continued to go through her pack for the umpteenth time. Adair looked down at the small mass of branches they had thought to collect while they had been beneath the pines of Eastmarch. Adair finished his strip of meat, if they didn't have any fire they would freeze in their sleep. Adair shuddered at the thought. ''Wait a minute. I have an idea.'' Svedi exclaimed excitement bright in her voice.

''What is it?'' Adair asked. He watched as Svedi scrabbled to her feet quickly, a small bundle of kindling in her hand.

''_You_ can start a fire.'' Svedi explained as she pressed the kindling into the man's hand.

''_Me?_'' Adair asked stunned looking down at the soft twigs and hay in his hand.

''Yes, you can start a fire with you magic.'' Svedi continued, a bright smile was spread across her face from her own stroke of genius.

''I can't.'' Adair replied simply. The smile on Svedi's face faltered.

''W-what?''

''I can't light a fire, Svedi.''

''But you're a Breton, aren't you supposed to be able to you magic?''

''Yeah, but not me.''

''You mean you can't use _any _magic.'' Svedi asked innocently

Adair gave a tired sigh. ''Yes, I can't use _any _magic.''

''_At all_?''

''At all.''

There was a moment of silence between them, that was until Svedi began to laugh.

''What's so funny.''

''It's just-Don't you think it's a little ironic?''

''What do you mean?'' Adair asked his voice low.

''Well, you're a Breton and you can't use magic. I mean that's what you're naturally good at, I mean it's like a fish not being able to swim.'' Svedi giggled

Adair's eyes narrowed, her words cut him deep, even this was not their intention. There had never been any spec of magic inside him, it had been hard for his family to understand, and even harder for his society to. He was considered by many to be a disappointment to his family, which had been one of the reasons he had left High Rock all those years ago. But for some reason her words cut him deeper than any other.

''Yeah, and you're Nord. Aren't you all supposed to be retarded and have relationships with your horses.''

Svedi's brow folded and the laugh fell from her lips. ''You know that's not what I meant.''

''Then what did you mean by it?'' Adair growled.

''Nothing,'' Svedi shouted ''nothing at all. It's just...surprising, that's all.''

''Why did it surprise you? Is it because I fall short of your preconceptions of my race?'' Disgust slipped into his voice as he continued. ''All you Nords are the same, too close minded for your own good.''

''Now who's being close minded?'' Svedi retorted angrily, her cheeks her beginning to go red. In their argument they had moved closer to each other, they were now stood nose to nose. Suddenly Adair turned away so quickly Svedi nearly jumped, she watched as he stalked away her rage only building as he walked away from her. ''Where the hell do you think you're going?'' She screamed after him.

''For a walk.'' He shouted back.

Svedi growled and her teeth gritted together '' I hope you get eaten by a horker.'' She screamed after him. There was no reply as he continued walking away towards the setting sun.

...

She had been stumbling blindly in the dark calling Adair's name with no response for a unknown length of time. She was utterly turned around and lost; not knowing which way was which. In the darkness it was quite likely she had doubled back over her steps several times or had been walking in circles for hours. Again she shouted Adair's name, and again there came no response. The snow was falling into the woman's eyes as she stumbled forward; her arms were tightly wrapped around herself trying desperately to keep herself warm.

Hearing a noise from behind her Svedi turned ''Adair?'' She called out to the noise, unsure and nervous. Her eyes widened as a hissing sound filled the air around her and out of the darkness emerged a bobbing hovering Ice Wraith, slivering its way towards her. Her muscle memory made her hand fly to her hip for her mace, only for it to grasp at air. She had left her mace and shield back at the camp. _Stupid. Stupid_ **Stupid.** Svedi screamed inside her head as the Ice Wraith twirled around her, with fight out of the proverbial window, her only option was to take flight. But not particularly wanting to unknowingly run off any of the island's steep cliffs, she also found that option out of the window.

The Wraith made a twirling lunge for her, Svedi twisted to the side avoiding the beast's deadly tail. But in the motion her feet became unsteady in the foot deep snow, and her body dropped like a stone. Face first. Svedi coughed against the snow in her mouth and furiously rubbed the white slush out of eyes to look up just in time to see the Wraith making a dive for her. Svedi quickly pressed herself back into the snow, as if it would serve any kind of protection. Flat on her stomach, with her arms wrapped around her head, she waited for the beast to strike her and kill her. But it never came.

Above the sound of her own screaming and the hissing of the Wraith there came a loud bellow.

''_Svedi._''

Peeking through her fingers she saw the outline of Adair against the night sky. The Wraith had its attention on the man, taking her chance Svedi leapt out of the snow, she wasn't quite sure if her feet had touched the ground or not as she arrived at Adair's side. Adair's eyes never left the serpent as he asked, ''Are you alright.''

''Yes.''

''Good.'' There was relief in the man's voice, which made her heart beat oddly for a second. ''Stay back.'' Svedi obeyed stepping away to a safe distance.

Svedi watched her heart in her mouth, as the beast weaved in the wind. Adair swung his sword forward down against its body but the Wraith spun to the side and without hesitation turned its long razor sharp body and shredded it through the unprotected skin between his braces and pauldron. The Breton gave a shout of pain as he pulled quickly back.

''Keep your body together. He'll take advantage of any long reaching strikes.'' Svedi shouted to the man who nodded in response. He folded back his arms holding him in front of his chest, sword erect and ready in his hands. The Ice Wraith span forward, this time Adair was prepared. Adair raised his forearm so that the attack struck his brace, turning in forward down he swung at the serpent. But it was quick and turned away, but not in time. Adair's sword struck its tail and carried on through. The Wraith squealed in agony as a sound similar to shattering ice filled the air as its tail fell to the ground and shattered. A small victorious smile spread across his lips as the Wraith's movements became clumsy and uncontrolled.

''So the tail acts as a sort of rudder.'' Svedi murmured to herself.

The serpent made an erratic move forward; Adair evaded quickly, but felt one of the barbs of its body scratch against his cheek. His stumbled back slightly against the slick ice underneath the snow. The Wraith took it's chance to strike while Adair was off guard, it dove forward at blinding speed straight for the man's unprotected neck.

''_ADAIR!_'' Svedi screamed, her heart threatening to leap from her ribs. There came a twisted cry of agony, Svedi's eyes widened. Adair was leaning forward the pommel of his sword held tightly in his hand, the sword pointing downward into the snow. Svedi thought the worst, that was until her eyes focused on the wriggling serpent skewered by the sword. She watched as the man pulled himself to his full height, his hands remained on the pommel of the sword to keep the Wraith in place. Slowly he raised his steel booted foot, and left in hovering for a moment, calculating it appeared. The serpent continued to wriggle and thrash, to no avail. Suddenly Adair brought down his boot on the Ice Wraith's skull, putting all of his weight behind it. There came the sound of shattering ice and a twisted last squeal before the Island became still.

Svedi rushed forward to the man's side, Adair greeted her with a small abashed grin. Without hesitation Svedi struck the man across the head with an open hand, tears hot in her eyes. Adair rubbed the spot where she had hit him and murmured to himself.

''I guess I deserved that.''

''Yeah you do.'' Svedi yelled, Adair turned to her noting the emotion obvious in her voice and her damp eyes. ''Do you know how worried I was?''

''Yeah I guess it was rather rash, wasn't it?'' He replied quietly.

Adair reached forward into the shards of the Wraith and retrieved a pointed pair of fangs, he pocketed these swiftly. ''I'm sorry for buggering off like that. And for over acting, and for insulting you.''

Svedi's eyes softened ''I'm sorry, for laughing at you. That was cruel.''

''Apology accepted.'' Adair smiled at her, Svedi returned the grin with same -if not more- enthusiasm.

''Oh, and I'm sorry I said I want you to be eaten by a horker.''

Adair laughed deeply. ''You are fully forgiven.''

* * *

><p>Review... Please? With a cherry on top?<p>

(If I get a lot of reviews, I'll update tomorrow. No, I'm not above blackmailing my readers. *evil cackle*)


	33. Esbern

Ok so this is response to An gretle who posted a review. I'm sorry that my flippant remark made you feel the way you did about this story. It was a flippant remark that I wrote after about 3-4 hours of constant writing so me in my completely burned out state I thought 'hey lets add that in, maybe it will get a laugh' and like the derp that I am I wrote it in. Yeah, in retrospect it does look stupid but it is a flippant remark and one that is not meant to be taken seriously. I just hope that it didn't put you off the story, but then I have to wonder how much truly you enjoyed my story if you would be put off by one minor remark :/ But thank you for alerting my about that, as it's possible that you aren't the only one who feels that way about the remark. I just hope you continue to read and enjoy the story :).

Right so in this chapter I'm taking a bit of creative licence with the 'Become Ethereal' Shout as ingame you simply become a spirit in the sense that the Dragonborn's physical body kind of vanishes and so doesn't take damage from attacks blah blah blah. So considering that you become some kind of spectral being I think it seems feasible that the Dragonborn (while using this shout) can pass through solid objects. Nothing thick like a wall or something but stuff like chairs, people and doors for instance. The spectral form becomes more powerful with the more words of power that the Dragonborn learns. Right, so I hope everyone understands, if not feel free to PM me :)

Now on with the chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Esbern

Lianna turned to face Mjoll the Lioness. It seemed the woman was aptly named; her long blonde hair was pulled back away from her face so tightly it appeared to be almost painful. Face coloured with war paint and mouth twisted in a furious snarl, dressed in sleek menacing armour and pointing a cheap iron sword in the direction of the Dragonborn's oesophagus, she stood blocking the only exit out of the room. Lianna stiffened as the woman suddenly lunged for her with a guttural roar. Thinking quickly Lianna leapt forward onto the bed to evade the Lioness's lunging strike, Lianna bolted for the now open exit the Grimsever heavy in her tightly clenched hand. But before she could reach the threshold a massive weight crashed into her side, sending the small woman skidding to the wooden floor. Winded, the woman looked up to see Mjoll stood over her, the Nord's sword held over head. The line of white iron cut through the air with a whistle, Lianna twisted away just in time to hear the sword connect with the wood where just a second before her abdomen had been. Jumping to her feet she faced the snarling woman, Lianna's back pressed against the bedroom wall, she was just a few feet away from the doorway. The unrelenting force that was Mjoll again leapt forward, sword madly swinging. Lianna again twisted to the side so that the sword struck the wall; Mjoll gave a roar of outrage. Lianna's back was now facing the doorway, all she would need to do was turn and run like hell. Lianna could feel her tongue twisting for a Shout, Mjoll span quickly to slash the Dragonborn across the belly. Lianna's lips curled into a small smirk, breathing in deeply she Shouted.

''FUS RO DAH!''

Mjoll's eyes widened, as a sound like thunder exploded out of the Breton's lips. The Nord was flung across the room like a rag doll and struck the wall with great force. Lianna stared at the crumpled body of Mjoll, she felt guilt and shame twist in her gut. She was only meant to steal from the woman, not kill her. Suddenly there came a groan from the woman, momentary relief washed over the Dragonborn. The relief was quickly forgotten as Mjoll weakly reached for her dropped sword that was beside her. Taking her chance Lianna fled the home, Grimsever in hand.

...

Lianna thumped down the steps to the jetty than lined the canal and also led the way to the Ratway. The air was salty as she stepped through the mist to the Nord male waiting for her at the entrance of an alcove. Brynjolf stepped forward to meet the woman; Lianna pulled her knapsack from her shoulder the glittering handle of Grimsever poking out into the damp air.

Brynjolf chuckled ''Well I'll be damned, lass. You did it.''

Lianna wasn't sure whether he was referring to the fact that she had actually managed to steal the sword or that she had actually had been mad enough to take the man up on his outlandish offer. She supposed it was a mix of both, as the thief pulled the sword from her knapsack to see whether it was the genuine article.

''I've held up my end of bargain. Now, what about yours.''

Brynjolf nodded quickly is eyes hungry with greed as he handed back the sword to Lianna for the time being. ''Of course, lass. Of course.'' The man stepped into the alcove and pulled back a metal grate which revealed a door, Brynjolf stayed his hand on the handle. He turned back to the woman who had not left her previous position. ''Coming lass?''

The woman was cautious to follow the man down into the sewer. She would be at a disadvantage if he tried anything, he would be in his own element with an unknown number of comrades ready to back him up. He could very well lead her into a dead-end, slit her throat and steal everything she had.  
>Brynjolf cocked an eyebrow her body language screamed suspicion and apprehension. ''Look lass. I know I'm not your first choice as a guide but without my help you'll never get yourself to the Warrens.''<p>

Lianna contemplated this for a moment. How many times had she blindly walked into danger in the name of the Blades? At that moment she was of half a mind just to turn away and leave Esbern to the Thalmor, after all then the Imperials would have nothing to hang over her head. But the other half of her was telling her that the Blades were the only ones who knew anything about stopping Alduin. She sucked in a breath slowly, Nirn came first. She was the Dragonborn and she couldn't be selfish when the end of the world grew closer the longer Alduin was able to wreak his havoc.

''Alright, but you go in first.''

...

Brynjolf was right; she would have never been able to navigate the complicated dark system of tunnels alone. They had been travailing in the near darkness for about half an hour before Brynjolf stopped at a wooden door, scratched into the door was a symbol. A circle in the middle of a diamond. Brynjolf pushed open the door and walked through, Lianna followed, and once inside stopped stunned. She was surprised to find such a long and tall room in the middle of the sewer there was even something that looked like a pond in the centre, on the far side there appeared to be some kind of bar.  
>Lianna trotted quickly to catch up with the red headed Nord. The two passed another Nord with a broken nose, this Nord was watching Lianna scrupulously.<p>

''She's with me Dirge.'' Brynjolf muttered as they passed. Dirge gave a unintelligent grunt in response, Lianna could still fell the man's eyes on her as she passed him. As the carried on around the pool they passed a sign which read; _The Ragged Flagon _so it was indeed a bar. There were a number of chairs and tables scattered around the back end of the room along with a bar. A couple of the thieves watched the two carry on pass, but most ignored them and continued nursing their mead. Brynjolf carried on past the bar, down into a small corridor to what could have been a store room. Barrels and crates were stacked high in the narrow space, at the end of the corridor stood a door. Brynjolf stopped in front of it, he turned to the woman.

''This is where I leave you lass, this door leads to the Warrens.''

Lianna slid Grimsever from her knapsack and handed it to the man. ''Pleasure doing business with you.''

''And you lass.'' His eyes sparkling with victory as he took the sword.

Lianna didn't give the man a second glance as she pushed open to door and stepped inside.

The Dragonborn stepped out onto a walkway, below she could see the system of tunnels and small rooms continued. Suddenly there came a cry from below.

''There! There's the Blade Agent! Kill her! Kill her!'' A bolt of energy narrowly missed the woman; it collided with the stone wall just inches from her head. Hearing the sound of close footfalls Lianna turned to see a Thalmor Wizard making his way towards her, sparks buzzing in his hands. Lianna and the elf traded magic in precise deadly well matched blows. Lianna flung volleys of fire at the elf who dodged with the skill of a dancer, sparks jumped from his hands and struck the Breton in the chest. Lianna staggered back, the Wizard began to charge to sparks in his hands. Back pressed against the wall, thinking quickly Lianna measured how much distance was between the Wizard and the edge of the walkway. A small smile twitched at her lips.

''FUS RO DAH!''

The Shout sent the elf flying through the air and over the railing that ran the edge of the walkway, she heard a distant thud when the elf's body must have struck the ground, but heard nothing else. Lianna stood her hands gripping the railings and looked down to the floor, to see the elf dead on the floor. Neck snapped. More movement caught her eye, two more Thalmor. But these were soldiers not wizards. Lianna hoisted herself over the railing and jumped down to the lower level, landing firmly on her feet. One of the soldiers drew his sword and made a wild swing at the Dragonborn, fire shot out of the woman's hands and collided with the elf, the fire clung to the elf's flesh and armour he screamed as he burned. He collapsed to the floor howling in agony, Lianna's gut rolled as the smell of burning flesh filled the room and his screams rung in her ears. Taking his chance the second elf swung at the Dragonborn. Surprised Lianna had no time to react as the blade sliced across her shoulder, stumbling back she readied her flames again and sent them crashing into the elf, he was knocked back and struck the wall. His head sagged forward and she supposed him dead.  
>Lianna turned away from them and started down one of the tunnels, her healing magic lighting the way as she healed her bloody shoulder.<p>

...

Lianna stood in front of a large metal door, heavily barred, it looked promising. She rapped against the door, there came a sliding of metal as a small panel in the door was pulled back revealing a pair of once blue eyes dulled with age staring back out at her, full of suspicion.

''Who are you? What do you want?'' The man behind the door asked rudely in an old and weathered voice.

_''_Esbern? I'm a friend, open the door.''

''I don't know who you're talking about. I don't know an Esbern. Now go away.'' The sliding metal panel was closed firmly.

But Lianna persisted ''Delphine sent me.''

There came a cold bout of laughter from behind the door. ''Delphine.'' There was an almost wistful note to his voice as he spoke her name, which made her wonder what relationship they had had when they had been comrades. ''So you've found me, and you were led from her to me. And now you're here to kill me.'' Again Esbern laughed bitterly.

''I'm not Thalmor.'' Lianna said frustrated.

''Then why did I hear screaming earlier? You're here to kill me.''

''Gods man!'' Lianna shouted at the door, ''I've been trying to find you, not kill you. I'm the Dragonborn.''

There came the sliding of metal and the panel, the once blue eyes looked back at her, obviously giving her a once over. She wondered what his opinion of her was, it obviously wasn't very good as the panel was again firmly shut.

''I don't believe you. Be off with your nonsense and leave me alone!'' Well, at least he didn't think she was Thalmor anymore.

Lianna gave an exasperated groan and massaged her temples. Quite suddenly an idea occurred to her. ''I'll prove it.'' She said determinedly

''Your still there?'' Esbern grumbled back. Lianna rolled her eyes, she slowed her breathing and whispered;

''Feim.'' The word hissed out of her lips. A fuzzy dizzy sensation filled her head, she felt light, like air. She took a step into the door, it felt walking through water. Sluggish and heavy. She entered a surprisingly cosy room, with papers and scrolls scattered across the floor and stuck to the wall. Her eyes landed on Esbern. It appeared that the years of being in hiding had not aged the man terribly. He looked like he could still hold his own in a fight, she noted that his left hand only consisted of three fingers, alluding to his past as a soldier. His eyes were wide and slowly a smile across his face.

''So the Dragon does walk among us again.''


	34. On The Road, Again

**Force.**Balance._Push._

On The Road, Again

Lianna felt her body become gradually heavier; her feet felt the hard stone floor beneath her. Momentary dizziness made her head fizzy as she steadied herself; the Become Ethereal Shout was never one she was going to get used to. Shaking her head to still the room, she now looked at the old man before her.

''Why do you call me Dragon, Esbern?'' None had called her so, it had always been Dragonborn.

A small smile crossed Esbern's face. ''Why? Because that is what you are.''

The look that the woman gave Esbern must have been somewhere along the lines of -You're insane- because the old scholar continued. ''Physically you are human, that cannot be disputed. But spiritually you are more dragon than human.''

''You've lost me, Esbern.'' Lianna said flatly.

Esbern chuckled softly for a moment ''How many dragon souls have you absorbed?''

''More than I care to count.''

''Exactly. You have _one_ human soul, but _countless_ numbers of dragon souls inside of you. Therefore you are more dragon than human.''

''Oh.'' A small frown creased her brow as the older man beckoned her enthusiastically to a nearby table. This new piece of information unsettled the woman immensely, but now was not the time to consider the fact that she was proportionally more beast than human. She sat down at the table which was littered with various documents and maps and such, Esbern sat opposite her.

''You, the Dragonborn, I can hardly believe it.''

A small smile twitched across Lianna's lips. ''The one and only. What I don't get is why Delphine thinks I'm so important.''

''Important!'' Esbern chuckled softly, the way an adult would laugh kindly at the ignorance of a child. ''My dear, you are more than just _important_; you are the Dragonborn, our only hope... For too long I have watched our doom approach.''

''Doom? You mean the return of the dragons?'' Lianna frowned. Dragons were a problem sure, they burnt down farms, killed livestock and made folks lives pretty miserable, but were they really doom worthy? After all she had killed plenty of them and was still able to tell about it.

Esbern shook his head and scoffed. ''Ha! No, dragons can be killed. The Blades killed many in their early days as dragon-slayers. No, dragons are merely the final portent of the End of Days.''

''You're...you're talking about the literal end of the world?'' Lianna said unsure if she had heard the old man correctly and if he was being serious, after all there were plenty of lunatics down in the Warrens, who was to say the man opposite her wasn't one. But no, the look in the man's old eyes was serious and unwavering. Her stomach pitched in her gut, she was meant to stop the world from ending? How the fuck was she supposed to do that?

"Oh, yes. The prophecies make clear the signs that will precede the end times. One by one, I've seen them fulfilled, Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said. The dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife! Alduin will devour all things and the world will end! Nothing can stop him!" The old man was working himself up into a frenzy and before he could suffer from a stroke or his heart gave out Lianna cut him off.

''Esbern! You said it yourself, I'm the Dragonborn. While I'm around there is still hope.''

''Yes...you are right. I apologise...I have been living without hope for so long.'' The soft almost distant tone to his voice made Lianna wonder how truly sane he was, two decades of being on the run wasn't going to do anything favours for his mental stability, surrounded by madmen down here also probably hadn't helped either. Quite suddenly the distant lost tone vanished, eyes were focused, once again he was a capable warrior and scholar. ''The prophecies are clear. Only the Dragonborn can stop Alduin. We must go, quickly now. Take me to Delphine. We have must to discuss. Give me just a moment; I need to gather a few things."

Esbern rose from the table with speed and began gathering his few belongings amongst all the parchment that littered the small room. Lianna watched as Esbern worked easily within the disorder of what was his home, picking up what had some value, sentimental or otherwise.

''I suppose this is good enough.''

Esbern closed the door to his little home and hesitated for a moment, his hand held the handle eyes distant and almost sad. Lianna placed a kind hand on the man's shoulder and Esbern patted it gently. ''Don't worry yourself over an old man, lass. We must move if we don't want the Thalmor to find us.''

''Right, follow me.'' Lianna said as she led the way back through the Warrens.

They had met Thalmor on their journey out of the sewer, two soldiers and a wizard. Thinking she would need to protect the old man Lianna had made sure to keep Esbern in her line of sight, but had been surprised to hear the clap of collapsing air that signalled a Conjuration spell and with a howl of 'For the Blades!' The two made quick work of the elves, their magic working easily together. Lianna, though a little wary of what else that man was hiding away beneath that aged and serious face, was ultimately happy to have a fellow mage at her side.

Once out of the sewer Lianna cautiously led Esbern back up to the upper level of the city, careful to keep an eye out for a more than likely furious Mjoll. Suddenly there came a fearsome yowl not unlike a cat, turning too late Lianna's eyes locked with that of a female Khajiit. A knife flickered in the air between them it caught her cheek, a slim ribbon of blood unfurled from the wound. Lianna gave a shout of shock and pain and stumbled back, only for Esbern to send rushing forward his Flame Atronach. The Khajiit woman's fell quickly to the fire, noticing a small note underneath the cat's belt Lianna reached for it. The edges of the note disintegrated into her hand, but for the most part it was still legible.

_I have good reason to believe the target will be coming to Riften in the next few days. Discretion is preferred, but elimination of the target is of the highest priority. The usual restrictions on exposure are lifted—you will be reassigned outside Skyrim if necessary, without penalty.__  
><em>Do not fail me.<em>_  
>—<em>E.<em>

Lianna didn't realise she had burnt the note into a smouldering pile of ash in her clenched fist until the hot dust scorched her palm, she quickly opening her hand to allow the ash to fall to the ground. There was little doubt in her mind who _E _was. Old rage started to rise in the young Breton; how the _fuck_ had Elenwen known she would be in Riften? Someone was watching her, and that someone was Thalmor. The only question was, who was it?

''I think its best we leave Riften for good, Esbern.''

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><p>Short chapter be short. The next chapter will make up for it.<p> 


	35. Comparisons

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Comparisons

Lianna was stood staring back up the dirt track that led to Riften's Stables, waiting patiently for the figure of Esbern to reappear. The old man had made it apparent that if they wanted to get to Riverwood in good time they would need a horse, Esbern-though evidentially still a competent fighter- was a man late in his years and it appeared that his age had began to catch up with him. Even their rather short journey through and out of the Ratway had left the man limping and gasping slightly. Lianna wondered just what Delphine expected of the man, as it had been twenty or so years since they had been separated by The Great War and the Thalmor, if she expected him to start taking down dragons left right and centre than she would be sorely mistaken. But then, maybe she was underestimating him, after all he had evaded capture for twenty years -no small feat- and maybe he was not used to moving so far after living in that tiny room for an undetermined length of time. Whatever the reason they would get nowhere fast without a horse.

Lianna's musing was disturbed by the clopping of hooves from further up the track back behind her. The footfalls became louder-nearer, Lianna could hear two separate sets of hooves on the dirt track. Looking back up the path she was surprised to see Esbern leading two horses by the reins down the path towards her. As the man drew near she could see there was a smile on his old lips, before the woman could refuse or make any kind of remark the old scholar had passed the reins of one of the horses into her hands.

''Consider it a gift, a way of thanking you.''

''But whatever for?'' Lianna spluttered, she tried to rack her brain for any notion of kindness she had shown him in their short time together than would warrant such a gift.

''For being the Dragonborn.'' Esbern stated as he ran a hand over his own horse's nose. A honey coloured mare with soft kind sleepy eyes, she snorted softly into his hand. ''For being the saviour of the world.'' Again a shadow passed the man's eyes as if he wasn't truly seeing her but was somewhere else entirely.

''But I haven't done anything yet, Esbern.''

''You will.'' He simply replied in that same far off voice.

Quite suddenly the strange air about the man vanished and a humorous smile spread across his features. ''Besides, sharing a horse is a rather romantic endeavour and one I think you wouldn't wish to undertake with an old man.'' The man's old eye winked softly, a small abashed grin spread across the woman's face, proving the man right. He chuckled softly as he pulled himself into the stirrups of his mare.

Lianna paused before mounting into the saddle of her horse. A dark stallion who was champing nosily at the bit and swinging his neck this way and that. Compared with the sleepy docile mare the stallion looked positively wild. She ran her hand over the beast's neck and shoulder as she pulled herself into the saddle, the horse snorted and again swung his head to annoyance at being ridden. Esbern's eyebrows rose;

''I'm surprised you are able to mount him. The stable master said that he was quite wild and often refused riders.''

_Great. I've got the crazy horse. _Lianna thought as she pulled at the reins to still her mount, the stallion resisted by stamping his hooves and pulling at the bit. ''I suppose I must feel honoured then.'' She muttered as she goaded the stallion's flanks to start him to walk, Esbern followed suit and the two walked side by side on the road in silence. The only sound in the late afternoon mist was the rhythmic beat of the horses steal shoes and the trills of bird song. It had been a long time since Lianna had been in a saddle of a horse, her father had owned a few horses, though they were tall strong beasts so she hadn't been taught to ride until her fifteenth year. She had been taught to ride side-saddle, she was a noblewoman and so to ride astride would be seen as disgraceful and unladylike. So naturally at night she had the stable boy teach her to ride astride. Lianna was pulled from her memories by a sudden violent lurch of her mount.

The horse took off at a gallop twisting and spinning, swinging his head violently. Lianna hung on for dear life as the horse tried with all its might to thrown her off, she pulled at the reins to keep the horse's head up so he couldn't buck, but the stallion was strong and rolled his head down into his chest and rose his body into the air. One second she had been in the saddle holding on like her life depended on it and suddenly she found herself on her back on the hard turf. Rolling to side she saw the beast stood only a few feet away, she could have sworn he was laughing. She heard the rush of hooves as Esbern arrived at her side; he quickly pulled her to her feet. _This horse will be the death of me._ Lianna thought as Esbern began healing her bloody forehead. She decided she would call him Sverrir. (1)

...

_''So you think that Alduin's Wall will tell us how to defeat Alduin?'' _

_''Well yes, but there is no guarantee.'' _

Their journey through the Reach had, thankfully, uneventful; Delphine had made sure that they kept off the main roads to avoid Forsworn where possible. Sverrir also thankfully had not tried to buck off the Dragonborn, Lianna highly doubted that is was because he was getting used to her. The mad horse was probably just thinking of over tactics to kill her. They had made camp on the side of a mountain, south to Karthspire and the band of Forsworn that had taken up residence there. Lianna woke early, just before dawn, and crawled out of her tent and began on breakfast, one green apple. She sat chewing for a moment then found her eyes drawn to the tent next to hers -Delphine's- the tent flap was open and the bed roll vacant, showing no signs of its owner having spent the night there. Esbern's tent on the other hand was tightly closed. Lianna paused before she took another bite, then thinking better of herself she continued with her breakfast. It was not her place to judge on their relationship, so she didn't. She rose and made her way further from the tents near to where they had left the horses. She would save them the embarrassment of having to leave the same tent in front of an audience.

She sat on the grass and took in the view. The mountain that Karthspire found itself in stretched into the sky in front of her. There was a dirt track that led from the cave cutting through the mountain range, creating a steep valley on each side. From her vantage point she had a clear view of the Forsworn, finished with her apple she threw the core into the grass, the horses started snuffling in the long blades of green for it. They were dressed in the skins of deer. All but one of the women wore feathers in her hair and had paint across their faces and naked breasts. There was one woman whose breasts were covered -thought barely- with deer pelt and on her head sat the head and neck of a adult doe. She appeared to be a sort of leader, along with one of the men. He -unlike the others- also wore the head and neck of a deer upon his head, but a stag rather than a doe. The other men appeared to simply have antlers stuck to their heads. It was now evident why they were called the 'Mad-men of the Reach' they looked positively feral, wild...inhuman.

She stilled for a moment, the Forsworn were Bretons, they were her kin...yet they seemed like anything but. When she lived in Daggerfall she had heard stories of people jumping the border from High Rock into Skyrim to run off to join the Forsworn. She supposed she could see the attraction of running away to join to Forsworn. Here you didn't have any responsibilities; you didn't need to worry about everyday life. No taxes to be paid, no children to raise. No appearance to keep up...To think, someone she might have known might be amongst them. She thought she recognised a few faces from her childhood, the butcher's daughter, a street boy that would frequent the market. But, no...she must have been mistaken, these people thought they shared heritage were nothing to her and wouldn't hesitate to cut her throat.

In her musing Lianna remembered what Esbern had told her but days ago.

_''You have one human soul, but countless numbers of dragon souls inside of you. Therefore you are more dragon than human.''_

If she had more dragon souls inside of her than human, surely that made her inhuman... Was she no better than the men and women further down the valley? Was she more beast than human? Was she even human anyway? _''...spiritually you are more dragon than human.'' What am I exactly? _Lianna thought. _Am I beast or human, or something in-between? _She looked at her hands, as if she would find the answer there, it was then that she realised that she was shaking.

''Kid.''

Lianna turned from her spot to see Delphine stood a bit further back, she beckoned her over. As Lianna drew near she saw there was a slight shadow under her eyes, suggesting that she had not taken much sleep the night before. ''Come on. We've got tactics to discuss.'' Delphine promptly turned and began to walk back to camp, Lianna followed.

...

''What the _fuck _do you think you're doing?'' Delphine screamed over the sound of battle, Lianna pretended she hadn't heard her as she threw herself amongst some of the Forsworn. Lianna was supposed to keep to the back of their little group as a support; the thing was there was no fun to be had at the back. So Lianna had broken from her position and thrown herself into the thickest of the fray.

Lianna smashed her flame enveloped fist up in to the face of a Forsworn who has sent reeling backwards. He gave a howl of pain as he reached for the strange barbed swords, his face was red and smouldering she was sure the heat had destroyed his eyes. Her hunch was confirmed as he swung the swords wide of her, Lianna seizing her chance shot a strong bolt of flames into the man's chest. He was sent flying back and landed flopping and howling in agony on the dirt, he would not recover from his wounds.

There came a _whoosh _and heat prickled across Lianna's face, she had narrowly avoided a fire bolt. Turning to face her assailant she saw that it was the woman who sported the doe head a top her own. The mad woman gave a howl and unleashed red bolts from her hands, moving quickly Lianna twisted ducked and dove around the barrage. There was a pause in the woman's attack and Lianna jumped on it, throwing her arms forwards with as much force as possible, two huge columns of fire erupted from each fist and struck the woman. There came a twisted howl and she was thrown back, she struck the ground and rolled. She did not get up.

High on adrenaline and her two kills, she blindly tore off away from the main group of Forsworn. Up to a platform on the side of the mountain, she was met by one Forsworn who was easily taken down; she carried up the steep series of platform. She found herself rooted to the spot at the highest point.

There was a make shift alter, upon it was a fresh sacrifice. A girl, throat cut, eyes torn from her skull and tongue ripped from her throat. There came a strange squawking from behind the alter, a strange creature emerged. It was hunched forward like a vulture. Talons clacked against the wooden beams and claws stretched from distorted palms. A long hook nose sat beneath dark retched eyes. Feathers sprouted from the joints in its limbs, its skin was pale and putrid. There was cloth covering both its loin and chest. This..._thing _looked liked it had crawled from the pits of Oblivion. The thing gave a screech that sounded not too dissimilar to that of a crow, quite suddenly fire erupted from its clawed hands. Lianna countered with her own flames, the two opposing powers met, they were evenly matched.

Suddenly there came a shout from behind the Dragonborn. It sounded like Delphine; out of instinct she turned her head for half a second. She saw that Delphine was screaming nonsensically up at her. She looked like thunder. Suddenly there came a crashing force into the Breton's chest, the force was so great it threw her into the air. Lianna heard the whistling of air and felt her body jolt and scream in pain as she landed on the lower down platform. She had made a stupid mistake, she had taken her eyes off of the enemy and she had been hit thanks to her stupidity. Her enchanted robes had stopped the heat of the fire but they had done nothing against the force of the attack. Winded Lianna attempted to scrabble to her feet as she heard the haunting sound of the clacking of talons, looking up Lianna saw that the creature had followed her down to the lower platform. It growled and hissed and it took stepped towards her, shaking Lianna scrabbled backwards. It raised its long pointed claws into the air and slashed forward.

''FUS RO DAH!''

The air about the creature trembled with a strong force as the wave sent it flying into the air and over the side of the platform. The mountains and sky seemed to tremble with the force of the Shout. She was relying far too much on her Shouts to get herself out of dangerous situations.

There came a furious roar from behind her and the quick movement of furious feet. Lianna thought that made it was another Forsworn, she was wrong, thought her assumption would have pleased her far more. Delphine pulled the girl to feet so violently she nearly fell back down. Delphine grabbed the collar of the girl's robes and pulled her close to her face.

''What the fuck was that? What the hell do you think you were doing? You're the Dragonborn, you can't go pulling suicidal stunts!'' Delphine shouted, Lianna's ear rung and she felt the woman's spittle land on her face. She remembered Ulfric saying similar words to her, she now realised that there was a noticeable difference in the way they reprimanded her. While Delphine made it apparent that she honestly didn't give two shits about Lianna herself, Ulfric did. To Delphine she was first a foremost the Dragonborn. To Ulfric she was the Dragonborn second. Lianna would have pondered the thought further if the mad woman wasn't shaking her furiously, obviously wanting an answer.

''What was _I _doing? What about _you_? _You _almost got _me _killed.'' Lianna shouted back. Delphine growled and clenched her teeth; she looked like she was going to punch the girl. Lianna responded by curling her fist, waiting to take her first swing. But before a brawl could break out Esbern pulled the two apart.

''Stop it!'' The man roared he turned to Lianna and the rage slowly melted from her face. A snotty grin spread across Delphine's. ''The both of you!'' Esbern snapped swinging around to the older woman, her grin vanished. ''You're both acting like children.'' There was a silent exchange between to two, before Delphine stalked away quickly grumbling and growling into Karthspire. Esbern sighed deeply, and ran a hand over his face. ''I'm sorry for that Dragonborn,'' Esbern said softly as he rested his hand on her shoulder, ''she means well.'' Lianna found herself doubting it. ''But, she has a point. You can't keep throwing yourself blindly into dangerous situations. You are far too important to lose, Lianna.'' There was genuine concerned and affection in the old man's eyes.

''Restraint is harder than it looks.''

Esbern chuckled softly and he began to make his way into the mouth of the cave. ''We cannot waste any more time Dragonborn. Sky Haven Temple awaits.'' Lianna followed the old Blade inside the cave.

* * *

><p>(1)<strong> SVERRIR<strong>: Old Norse name which was originally a byname for a restless person, derived from the word _sverra_ ("to spin, swing, swirl"), hence "wild, restless."

I just realised how much I make Lianna be thrown around...God, I'm terrible to her...

I'll update either tomorrow or the day after, depending on demand...


	36. Sky Haven Temple

For added atmosphere in this chapter, please listen to 'Avatar OST Tsungi Horn'...just a suggestion.

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Sky Haven Temple

The shadow of the mountains shroud the courtyard it was gloomy and dark, unwelcoming. Lianna stood admiring the strange markings on the walls carved there decades before. There was a seal of the Dragonborn –two dragons facing each other, touching noses carved into the floor, she could sense there was magic on the carving and suspected it was a seal of some kind. What exactly the seal was for she had no idea, but she was sure that it held the key of gaining entrance to the temple. What really puzzled her was the massive sized head of a man protruding from the wall, whatever it was there for she had no idea. There came the rushing of footsteps and gasping breaths, Esbern and Delphine had finally caught up with her. She had taken the lead when travelling through the series of booby-traps and puzzles, in the end she had torn away from the two completely, making sure to disable any traps she passed, she might not trust them but she didn't want them dead. She had felt Delphine's eyes burning holes into the back of her skull as they had jogged through the tight tunnels. She was lying to herself if she thought there was another reason she had distance herself from them, other than to rid the feeling of Delphine's reproachful eyes drilling into the back of her neck.

She heard the two rush up towards the wall she was stood before; Esbern's lit torch illuminated the gloom.

''So well preserved.'' Esbern murmured as he ran his free hand over a carving on the east wall. The old man was pulled from his admiring of the old walls by Delphine's hard voice. ''Esbern, we're for Sky Haven Temple. Not to enjoy art.'' Esbern mutely nodded and stepped towards the north wall -where the man's head was carved into the face of the rock.

''Who is he, Esbern?'' Lianna asked turning to the old scholar. Esbern raised his torch and the dark stone face was illuminated with the wavering glow.

''This is Reman Cyrodil, he was a hero of the Second Era. The greatest in fact, he was a hero of the Akarviri invasion of Cyrodil. Indeed, he convinced the invaders to help him build his own empire, and conquered all of Tamriel except for Morrowind, of course.''

''Wow.'' Lianna muttered, though she hadn't understood half of what Esbern had just said it sounded pretty impressive. ''Seems like he was a cool guy.''

Esbern chuckled, ''Yes, he even instituted the right of becoming an Emperor.''

''Esbern, we're not here for a history lesson.'' Delphine said her voice harsh. There was a flicker of something in Esbern's eyes, she could have been mistaken but he appeared almost...melancholic for a moment. ''Ah, yes... Yes, of course. I forget myself.'' He mumbled softly, looking slightly dispirited.

The man looked down, staring at the seal intently. ''This is an old Akarviri seal, thought I don't know what exactly we need to do to unlock it.'' He crouched down to the stone, running his hand over it slowly. ''The Akarviri had many seals of many different kinds, and unfortunately many of them are lost.'' He murmured.

''You mean, we can't go any further?'' Delphine asked.

Esbern rose back to his full height ''Yes, until we discover what kind of seal this is, and in turn unlock it. We cannot enter Sky Haven Temple.''

Lianna knelt down before the seal and ran her hands over it slowly, as she ran her fingers over the carvings of the dragons she felt whatever magic locked away within it pulse against her touch. As her fingers grazed over one of the dragons eyes it emitted the softest of glows, she did the same with the other dragon and its eyes too glowed softly. An idea was slowly forming in her head as to what the seal was. She felt the blood in her fingers pulsating as her hand rested gently on the edge of the seal. She was fairly certain now as to what the seal needed to be unlocked.

''It needs blood.'' Lianna said allowed.

''Are you sure?'' Delphine asked, brow furrowed.

''Positive.''

''Of course!'' Esbern exclaimed, he rushed forward enthusiastically. ''A blood seal, very rare. They were only used for places that held great secrets or were of great importance.'' Before Esbern could ramble any further Delphine interjected.

''So now we know how to get it to unlock, let's unlock it.'' Delphine stepped above the seal and pulled a dagger from her hip, she was about to pressed it to her palm but she stopped by the Dragonborn.

''I don't think it needs just any source of blood to unlock.'' Delphine threw the girl a fierce scowl; Lianna continued ignoring the older woman. ''There's the Dragonborn symbol here, so I think the blood it needs is the Dragonborn's... Mine.''

Delphine's eyes narrowed, ''Very well.'' the older woman lightly tossed the dagger to Lianna who caught it by the hilt, just.

Esbern and Delphine stepped back away from the seal and Lianna stood over it dagger in hand. She crouched down to the seal she raised her open palm over the two dragons and pressed the blade to her palm. Blood dripped down onto the seal and the reaction was immediate.

The eyes of the dragons burst with light and slowly the outline of their bodies began to glow, Lianna shielded her eyes against the bright magic. She felt the ground beneath her feet twist and move, there came the clucking and grinding of stone. Lianna looked up to see the eyes of Reman Cyrodil glowing with the same intense magic, the head slowly moved back slowly, revealing a stone staircase.

The grinding of stone and the bright light faded until all was still and dark again. Lianna's eyes were fixed on the door at the top of the newly revealed stairs. Beyond those doors there were answers. Beyond those doors there was her destiny.

...

Alduin's Wall towered before them stretching up a good twelve feet into the air. Lianna was amazed and in awe of the great structure, the wall stretched along the whole back of the main hall of Sky Haven Temple. The beautiful intricate carvings captivated her, it left her speechless as she walked the length of it. The wall told of Alduin's history, starting from his enslavement of men under his dragon cult, then to the humans revolting and the Nord heroes defeating Alduin with a Shout, then to the oblivion crisis. Her eyes then fell upon the depiction of a battle, no of war. She stiffened eyes wide as her eyes focused on the banners carried by the two sides. One side held the banner of the Empire whereas the other held the banner which depicted the head of a roaring bear. She felt ice settle in her belly, as she read the inscription beneath. _When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding... _The civil war was part of the prophecy; it was part of her destiny... Her blood chilled at the thought.

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn... _The last scene depicted a lone figure stood against Alduin sword in hand. As she pressed herself closer to the stone the figure became clear to her, at first she had thought it genderless but on close inspection she found that the figure was female and was dressed in what appeared to be robes. The sword in the grip of the picture of herself puzzled her, as she didn't know how to wield a sword. But for whatever reason it was on the wall...maybe it was her destiny to learn how to handle a blade.

She had been so wrapped in her thoughts that she realised she had not been paying attention while Esbern had been inspecting the wall to try and find a way for defeating Alduin.

''Here is the symbol for Shout.'' Esbern murmured as he studied the portion of the wall that depicted Alduin's defeat had the hands of the Nord heroes. ''You mean they used a Shout to defeat Alduin?''

''That seems to be the case.''

Delphine swore loudly from behind them. ''Do you know of a Shout that can knock a dragon out of the sky?'' she asked Lianna. The girl shook her head in response, she had never heard of such a Shout. She could count on one hand the number of Shouts she knew, most of which she hadn't learnt all the words of power for. ''But the Greybeards might know...'' Lianna offered.

Delphine's lips curled slightly in displeasure. ''I was hoping we wouldn't need to involve them. Now, though, it seems like we have little other choice.''

Lianna scowled ''What wrong with the Greybeards?''

''If they had their way you would be stuck on the top that mountain for the rest of your life. The Greybeards are so afraid of power they won't use it! They haven't raised a finger against the Civil War or the return of Alduin!''

Lianna felt the heat of anger beginning to creep up her neck. Delphine would have no idea what is like to be able to Shout. To her they were just words, a means for a goal, and nothing more. She would never understand to thrill of running down a dragon and taking its soul. She would never understand the rush of furious power and anger that filled her when she absorbed a soul. She would never understand the fear of having such anger and energy inside of her. She would never understand the enthralling power the Way of the Voice commanded.

''No, and they're afraid of your power.'' Lianna doubted that immensely, the Greybeards were immortal masters of the Way of the Voice. What was she? Just a fledgling with a small number of Shouts under her belt. ''Trust me, there's no need to be afraid.'' Without fear of power, without the fear of losing control, it was easy to become drunk on power. And then what you be? Something insane and twisted on power, not sane anymore, not human anymore.

''Power is dangerous.'' Lianna supplied slowly, there was little she could say to make the woman understand.

Delphine scoffed ''It's only dangerous if you don't know how to use it.'' _No, it's dangerous when you don't know how to control it. _''All the great heroes learned to use their power.''

''I don't think it's that simple.'' She said.

Delphine continued on, ignoring the girl. ''The Greybeards can teach you a lot, but don't let them pull you from your path Dragonborn. You're the only who can stop Alduin. Don't forget it.''

''I won't.'' She muttered, she _couldn't _forget that.

...

It was late evening, quite possibly early morning and Lianna couldn't sleep. She decided she would spend the night in Sky Haven Temple and then set off for High Hrothgar and its seven thousand steps in the morning. She had eaten her meal of venison stew with Esbern in the main hall -Delphine had been noticeably absent, Lianna hadn't minded. Then she had wondered about the place to find a good place to sleep, she had decided against the number of cots in the barracks as it was too drafty. Instead she had chosen the cot that -for whatever reason was situated in the kitchen, the warmest place in the whole of the Temple. She had awoken not long after falling asleep from strange nightmares full of dragons and soldiers. Thinking that maybe after a little walk she would find it easier to sleep, she had explored the Temple with a candlelight spell lighting the way for her. She had wondered in the thick cold corridors for a while before she came across a room that she hadn't noticed before.

She suspected it had once been a grand room; there was a large bed in the centre surrounded by furniture that had begun to decay after years of neglect. What caught her eye however was a glass case at the foot of the bed. Knowing from previous experience that things kept in glass cases generally held some sort of value, she investigated. The glass was covered in so much dust that she couldn't see into the case, wiping away the thick grime she saw that inside there was a sword. The lock was quickly picked and the lid opened. Now she had a proper look at the sword she realised that it was probably ancient.

It was long, slender and dark as ebony; it pulsed with magic energy beneath her fingers. Though she know not how to hold the sword it felt strangely...right, as it belonged in her grip, even if she didn't know how to wield it. She remembered the depiction of herself on Alduin's Wall, she had been holding a sword...she had a funny feeling she was meant to find this sword, she had a feeling it was her destiny to use it.

* * *

><p>The sword Lianna finds is Dragonbane...<p>

Reviews are welcome as they help to keep me motivated.


	37. Oaths

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Oaths

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><p>"I do swear my blood and<br>honour to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak  
>Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim.<br>As Talos is my witness, may this oath bind me  
>to death and beyond...<br>...even to my lord as to my fellow brothers  
>and sisters in arms.<br>All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons  
>and daughters of Skyrim!"<p>

* * *

><p>She set off before Esbern or Delphine awoke. She had buttered Sverrir up with all the apples she could find in the kitchen of Sky Haven Temple. Her bribery (at least for the time begin) had worked. She had mounted the horse with little fuss and now they were making good pace through the winding twisting paths that cut through the mountains. She had decided on setting north to journey out of the peaks and hills of the Reach and then journey east when the land flattened.<p>

Turning with the dirt path they suddenly found themselves on a straight length of path that then dipped into the valley a little further ahead. Sverrir snorted and pulled forward slightly, knowing what he wanted Lianna squeezed his flanks. Sverrir didn't hesitate in the command. He flew down the path dust and dirt kicked up behind him, long reaching strides pulled the beast along with easy. They flew through the cold wind, hair flying, breath steaming out before them in little clouds. Lianna gave a whoop of exhilaration as the dipped into the valley; she paid no attention to the stinging of her eyes and cheeks from the wind. In this moment she was free, she was not the Dragonborn, not an Imperial spy, not a nobleman's daughter. Here in this moment she could forget everything she was, had been and what the world expected of her.

In the distance a figure appeared on the road. Lianna slowed Sverrir as they drew near -much to the horse's displeasure. The figure was hooded and tall.

''Enjoy yourself?'' The figure asked in a mocking tone. The voice was that of a woman, Lianna's eyes widened. She recognised that voice; she had not heard it since she was last in Windhelm.

''Gaila?''

''Quick as a whip, aren't you.'' The woman replied

Lianna scowled. ''What do you want?''

''Oh Lianna. Are you are never happy to see me?'' The woman exclaimed dramatically, feigning hurt.

''No,'' Lianna replied her voice tight ''What is it that you want?'' Lianna repeated.

''Personally I want nothing.'' At those words Lianna squeezed Sverrir's flanks into a walk; Gaila grabbed the reins stopping them. ''I may not want something, but Tullius does.''

''Tullius? What business do I have with him?''

''You are involved in his cause, and you are not under oath.''

''So? I thought only soldiers took an oath.''

Gaila shook her hooded head slowly. ''No, everyone in the Legion takes an oath. From the couriers to the generals.''

''Even the spies?''

''Especially the spies.''

Lianna sighed staring at the distant horizon. ''I suppose I have no choice in the matter, do I?''

...

Two filthy and exhausted figures trudged through the Palace of the Kings. They turned into the war room, the man first followed closely by the woman, Galmar looked up as they entered.

''I'm impressed, I didn't think you would come back.''

''You sent me on a suicide mission, then.'' Adair muttered.

''No, I had no doubt in your skill. Simply in the strength of your loyalty. What of the wraith?''

''Dead.'' Adair replied as he presented the beast's fangs to the general.

Galmar's eyes turned to Svedi ''Can you vouch for him?''

Svedi nodded, her eyes earnest. ''I can. His is a skilled swordsman and showed courage in battle. I would be glad to call him a shield-brother.''

Galmar nodded ''Good.'' The man turned to the table for a moment and reached for a dagger impaled on the surface, he turned back to face the two. ''Now that you have passed the test are you ready to take the oath.''

''Oath?''

''You pledge your services to the Stormcloaks and the future High King. Both in word and in blood.''

''Blood?''

''If you are not willing to give blood for the cause now, how can we trust that you will on the battlefield?''

Adair nodded, it made sense. They needed people fully devoted to their cause. ''I'm ready to take the oath.''

Galmar raised the dagger over the man's open palm and drew it across, so a few beads of blood dripped from the red line. Adair recited the words of the oath that would forever bind him to the Stormcloaks, both in life and in death. He wondered what his father would say if he knew if he knew he was joining the rebellion. That reminded him, he had not sent word to his father that he had found his sister. Between the dragon attack and joining the Stormcloaks he hadn't had the time. The oath recited Galmar presented the man with his new Stormcloak cuirasses boots and gloves.

''Now you are both Stormcloaks, you will be deployed where you are needed. Dawnstar needs guards, you will be deployed there in a few days time.'' Adair and Svedi nodded and withdrew from the room. Svedi led the Breton to the Barracks and showed his bunk, Adair also took the time to change into his new cuirasses. Once changed he sat on his cot and began the long task of cleaning and polishing his sword, Svedi joined him sitting at the end of the bed.

''What's Dawnstar like?''

''Never been?'' Adair shook his head. ''It's a city to the north-west, a fishing port, it's the capital of the Pale. You'd like it.''

''As long as we don't have to swim through a half frozen sea to get there.'' Adair replied, a small mischievous grin on his lips, Svedi laughed. He liked her laugh, it was...a wonderful sound. ''I can't believe we've been stuck with guard duty.'' Adair said, Svedi shrugged.

''We're unblooded, all the unbloodeds get guard duty.''

''And to think my sister's out hunting dragons.''

...

''Don't.'' Gaila said quickly raising her arm in front of the Dragonborn, stopping her from going any further.

''I have to do _something_.'' Lianna hissed.

''You can't.'' Gaila breathed.

The crowd around them suddenly erupted, jeering and mocking, as Roggvir stepped forward to address the crowd. The Nord stood with pride and confidence in his rags. He did not fear death.

''Ulfric didn't murder Torygg, Ulfric defeated him in the old Nord way, in the way of tradition!''

The crowd erupted again at his words, something was thrown from the crowd and it struck the Nord across his wide chest. It was a perished tomato, the juice from the fruit dripped from his hair down to his face, but still the man looked on proud and unafraid. The man was lead to the block, as he lowered himself down upon it he said. ''On this day I go to Sovngarde.'' The headsman raised his axe. _He doesn't deserve death, not for opening a fucking gate. _Lianna twisted away from Gaila and quickly began to push through the crowd as if she could stop the execution. The axe sailed through the air and cut through the Nords neck, his rolled forward into a basket. Lianna's cry of outrage was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.

The crowd slowly dissipated, Lianna turned back to Gaila.

''You need to remember what side you're on, Dragonborn.'' Gaila whispered angrily as they walked away.

''Who's that?'' Lianna asked, Gaila turned to see where the Breton had indicated.

''That, is the Jarl. Elisif the Fair.''

Lianna watched the woman with interest. She was flanked by two guards and obviously been present during the execution. Elisif the Fair was aptly named, she was indeed very beautiful what surprised Lianna the most was how young the woman looked. They were probably about the same age in fact. _To be widowed at such a young age. _Lianna thought sadly.

''Lianna _come one_!'' Gaila shouted interrupting the woman's thoughts. Lianna begrudgingly followed.

...

''So you're the Dragonborn I've heard so much about.'' Rikke said as Gaila introduced the Breton. Tullius was sat at a far table writing and so far had not lifted his head from his work.

''Yes.'' Lianna replied simply. Rikke gave a nod a small satisfied smile sprouting on her lips.

''And you're here to take the oath?''

''Yes.''

''Very well. Repeat after me.''

As Lianna repeated the oath back to the Imperial Nord she wondered for how long would be able to up-hold it. Now that she was under oath, if she tried to back out of this, not only would the Thalmor get hold of the Blades, but she would be charged with desertion, punishable by death.

''Welcome to the Legion.'' Rikke smiled patting the woman on the shoulder, Lianna responded with a mute nod. ''From what we understand you have already infiltrated Windhelm, and passed on important information.''

Lianna gave a small nod of confirmation. ''I'm impressed, many have tried to get close to Ulfric and many have failed. He obviously trusts you.''

Lianna felt her neck become hotter. Tullius gave a snort from his table, turning all eyes to him. ''She only succeeded because she is the Dragonborn. Ulfric is vain and power hungry, so of course he would want the Dragonborn at his side, if nothing to increase his ego.''

''Whatever the reason,'' Rikke continued ''you'll need that advantage. The man's stubborn and...reclusive, very few manage to get to know what the man is like.''

''Understood.''

''Good, now let's get down to business. We need you to go to Windhelm and find any information involving Falkreath and possible assaults there.''

''Why is he planning an attack?''

''It's quite possible, Ulfric has Whiterun Hold it would be very easy to take Falkreath. Not that we're going to let him of course.'' Rikke finished with a Slaughterfish grin. ''Any important information should be passed on to Gaila, here. Is your objective clear?''

''Crystal.'' Lianna replied

''Good, dismissed the both of you.''

When both woman had left Tullius put down his quill and turned to the Legate.

''Sir?''

''I think we should keep a close of them.''

''Which one?''

''Both of them.''

* * *

><p>"Upon my honor I do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor,<p>

Titus Mede II, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire.

May those above judge me, and those below take me, if I fail in my duty.

Long live the Emperor!

Long live the Empire!"


	38. Dawnstar

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Dawnstar

Svedi was right, Adair did like Dawnstar. It was probably because most of the city was located on or very near to the shoreline, it reminded him of Daggerfall in that respect. The immediate sound of the sea and the bustle of the docked ships, brought back memories of a long ago childhood. It felt strange to call Dawnstar a city, as it was far closer to the size of a town than a city. He supposed it was the capital's lucrative sailing industry that had named Dawnstar the capital of The Pale.

The cart ride to the capital from Windhelm had been an experience. Himself, Svedi and the other soldiers bound for Dawnstar had alighted onto the wagon in the early morning. Their companions on the journey were a group of soldiers -twelve men and women- unbloodeds like themselves. Though the journey had been frightfully cold, a seemingly bottomless flask of mead had been passed between all fourteen of them and it helped to keep their belly's warm and their spirits up. For the first leg of the three day journey games of cards had been played and stories animatedly told amongst the little band. The last two days had been spent bent double, huddled into each other's neighbour against a snow storm.

As the cart had rolled into the city they had all disembarked outside the Jarl's Longhouse. As soon as they had all lined up to attention outside, waiting for their captains and orders. The Stormcloaks who had been previously been on guard duty had ascended the cart the new arrivals had just vacated. With their shift over they would be sent back to Windhelm for further orders. The new guard watched the old guard intently; they looked like they hadn't slept in weeks. All haggard, pale gaunt faces and dark bags under their eyes. All fourteen shared dubious looks with each other as they watched the cart pull away. None dared say a word, but that didn't stop the looks of curiosity, dread and the raised eyebrows.

Quite suddenly the door of the Longhouse swung open, all fourteen heads snapped forward. A red haired Nord emerged; it was obvious from the belt of rank around his middle and the symbol on the pommel of his sword that this was their Captain. The man looked no better than the Stormcloaks that had left in the cart moments before, in fact he looked worse. The Captain stepped forward to address his new charges.

''Right, name's Erold and I'm the Captain of the guard in this city and while you're all stationed in Dawnstar you're all under my command. Do what I say without any bullshit and we won't have any problems, is that understood?''

There came a rumble of the affirmative from the group.

''Good.''

The Captain's eyes ran over the group, they fell upon the figure of Adair. His brow creased for a moment, there was a flicker of some recognition in his eyes, but it was quickly forgotten as he addressed the Stormcloaks. ''I know that many of you don't come from The Pale, but remember as the guards of this city you are Dawnstar's main defence and must be ready to lay down your lives as if this was your home. Is that understood?'' He barked

A collective rumble of ''Yes, Captain.'' responded.

Erold gave a small nod ''I know you're journey has been hard so go and rest up for a bit in the barracks. If the supply of mead runs out there's the Windpeak Inn up the road. You while receive formal orders shortly, until then you are dismissed.''

...

It was on Adair's second day at Dawnstar that he and another guard were given the job of apprehending a wanted criminal spotted in the area. The Stormcloak that he had been paired with was a young Nord by the name of Orvar. The man was quite a few years Adair's junior and a soft spoken, kind lad. It was general thought that if any of them was to be made Captain it would be Orvar before all of them, the man was a tactical genius, even if he was too young to grow a beard. The two had managed to persuade a farmer to allow them to ride in the back of his gig for a bit of the way, the farmer had agreed to take them down the road (about two miles) to near where the criminal had been most recently spotted. They had refused the offer to sit alongside the driver instead opting for the far less comfortable wagon filled with hay.

Adair grunted as he tried to seat himself in a position where the hay didn't stick into him, the effort was in vain however, as no matter which way the Breton tried to position himself he found the hay sticking itself into him in the most uncomfortable of places. And to make matters worse the gig constantly bounced about on the uneven road surface, tossing about its two passengers. It was better than walking for two miles, but barely.

''Remind me again why we're sat back here?'' Adair said as the gig gave a lurch beneath them.

''Sorry lads, pothole.'' The driver supplied pulling at the reins to slow the horse.

Orvar pulled a few lengths of hay from his hair. ''Say that we sat up with the driver, what would happen if our target happened to see us? She'd have scarpered and we wouldn't even know it.''

They again lapsed into silence, instead concentrating on not being thrown over the side of the cart. True to his word the driver dropped them off two miles from where their target had last been sighted. Adair and Orvar jogged through the gently falling snow, it didn't take them long to find a recently used camp site. The firewood still smouldering hot, they had set off after a set of tracks leading to the east.

''So, this person that we have to apprehend, what'd they do?''

''Generally thievery, she picked some pockets, broke into a couple of houses, stole valuables and weapons.''

''So what's the protocol with thieves?'' Adair asked, generally there were different rules of thumb when dealing with different types of criminals.

''She's past the point of simply paying off her bounty. We apprehend her if possible and take her back to Dawnstar to stand trial, that's if she comes quietly. If she doesn't...''

''We kill her.''

''Right.''

A few hours passed, both Stormcloaks had jogged in a wide circle hoping for any sign of their thief, they had found nothing. Adair was beginning to think that the woman must have seen them at some point and bolted. Not wanting to keep walking around in the cold and wind on a wild goose chase Adair was about to suggest they turn around and head back home, when quite suddenly there came a strange yowl to their right. Adair and Orvar both leapt for their weapons expecting a wild cat to leap out them, instead, and quite surprisingly, a woman stood before them.

To call her a woman those was to regard her as human, this woman before them seemed far from it. Her eyes were dark and restless, some kind of primeval energy held there, making them roll furiously about their sockets. Her hair was a mess of matted knots twisted and sticking at all angles about her face, a number of ugly scars were chiselled into her face. Her skin was thick with dirt, so much in fact it was hard to discern the original pigment. There was a bow strapped to her back, a far too handsome weapon for her to wield.

''Stop thief! You've violated the law serve your sentence or die.'' Orvar shouted, on the second syllable of 'sentence' his voice cracked which sent the wild woman into a fit of cackles. Orvar's face grew hot; Adair pulled himself to his full height and raised his sword to point in the direction of the woman's jugular.

''What say you thief?'' Adair growled.

The mad woman stopped her cackling and gave a soft sight and wiped a moist eye, Orvar spluttered in anger. ''What do _I_ say?'' The woman asked in a unusually high mocking voice, it was quite obvious she was insane. ''I say you leave before I fill you with arrows.'' The woman growled dangerously, she reached for the bow slung across her back, quicker than either of the men could breath inwards, an arrow was shot from her bow. It found its target with deadly accuracy. The arrow struck Orvar's throat, the boy toppled to the ground a gargled howl of agony arching out from his mouth. The boy twitched and writhed on the ground as his mouth red froth spilled from his lips. Adair felt bile rise up into his throat as the boy's eyes stared pleadingly into his, Adair could do nothing as Orvar's convulsing body slowly stilled, the boy's once bright eyes dulled and became blank.

A sharp cackle stabbed through the air, Adair turned to see the foul woman bent forward clutching her knees laughing manically. A roar of fury flew from the man's throat as he rushed for the woman; reflexes like a cat the woman reached for bow and lanced a few arrows. These found their mark in Adair's shoulder, but the man continued sprinting at the woman, he threw himself upon her forcing her to the ground. The wild thief howled and scratched his eyes; her frenzied movements only relented when the Breton's sword ripped through her neck.

...

The door to the barracks creaked open; a figure stepped inside the door he was met by absolute silence. All eyes were wide, nobody dared breath. Adair stood in the door way eyes distant, bleeding from the shoulder. All eyes were upon the small crumpled body in his arms, Orvar. The man crumpled to his knees, exhausted. Svedi leapt forward to catch Adair as he slumped to the floor. The only sound in the barracks was the crackling of the fire.


	39. The Wolf's Pupil

Well hello there! College starting again had me busy, which is why this chapter is like two weeks late... And now that I'm back at college it means that I'll only be updating once a week, yeah I know it sucks but whatcha gonna do...

I hope this chapter makes up for my absence!

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

The Wolf's Pupil

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><p>Howling ghost they reappear<br>In mountains that are stacked with fear  
>But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.<br>And in the sea that's painted black,  
>Creatures lurk below the deck<br>But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.  
>And as the world comes to an end<br>I'll be here to hold your hand  
>'Cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart.<p>

_King and Lionheart, Of Monsters and Men_

* * *

><p>Sverrir snorted softly as his brindle was removed; he shook his head happy to have it off. Lianna gently brushed her curled fingers over the horse's silken nose. He allowed her soft calming motion for a while before he turned his attention to a trough of hot oats. Slowly the horse was beginning to accept her, but that didn't stop him from being grumpy as a roused bear from time to time. She began to retrieve her belongings from the saddle bag, her hand hesitated when she came to Dragonbane, after a few moments of wondering what to do with it, she decided in the end she might as well wear it. She tied the long elegant weapon to the belt on her robes. Though the sword was light, it felt strange to have added weight on her left side causing her to walk too heavily on her one side as she paced the stall practicing. Sverrir looked up from his oats to watch his mistress totter about; interested for a moment his nostrils flared as he took it her scent, when there was no pain present he lost interest and returned to his oats. After a few circuits around the stall Lianna became somewhat used to the added weight. Knowing she could not put off the inevitable any longer she gave a word of goodbye to Sverrir and exited the stables and began along the bridge to Windhelm. The wall of biting chill did little to take away the sharp feeling of shame from settling in her gut as she walked through the city doors.<p>

Lianna felt her stomach grumble as she stepped into the city, she decided against going to Candlehearth Hall fearing another confrontation with a drunken racist, so instead she made her way to the Grey Quarter her destination the New Gnisis Cornerclub. She stopped at the top of the long tight street that was the Grey Quarter, her breath caught in her throat. The previously dilapidated filthy Quarter was now clean -well as clean as any city street could be. The houses and buildings no longer looked like their foundations would give way at any second, they looked sturdy and improved. It was evident that the improvements were still going on as they was scaffolding surrounding some of the buildings. It was late in the day and the workers were beginning to retire for the day making the tight street all the more claustrophobic as Lianna squeezed through the throng of people.

As she opened the door to the New Gnisis Cornerclub she was met with a wave of delicious enticing enthralling warmth that trickled into her bones and warmed her. The Cornerclub was heaving with people, namely elves but she did notice a few Nords. She went to the bar and paid for the leek and potato stew she was presented with. She seated herself at one of the tables that had a seat left, the table she perched herself on was already occupied by an Dunmer and a old Nord who had a long soot coloured beard. She was happy to eat in silence while idly listening while the man and mer chatted as if they were lifelong friends. The Cornerclub was full of revellers that were loudly singing songs from their homeland. Quite suddenly the Nord turned to her a soft smile on his lips.

''Voldsea we must be going deaf in our old age, to not have noticed that we have another person beside us.''

''Speak for yourself, old man.'' The elf replied in a low teasing voice.

The old Nord scoffed softly at his companion before turning back the Breton ''Ah, but where are my manners? Brunwulf Free-Winter at your service, and this is Voldsea Giryon she's a crew member on the Northwind.''

Voldsea gave a small nod towards Lianna ''Nice to meet you.''

''Likewise.'' Lianna replied with a small smile, she turned to the Brunwulf and voiced the question that had been on her mind. ''If you don't me asking...I mean no offense but-''

''Why is a Nord so easily enjoying the company of elves?'' Brunwulf supplied, Lianna gave a small nod. Rather than looking offended, as she would have expected, a tired look filled his eyes and a heavy sight escaped his throat. ''You are not wrong to be surprised to see me here, there are many who are suspicious and fearful of the elves. But I am one of the few who are not, I do not judge them for the faults of their kin or fear the magic that they wield. They may not be Nords but that does mean I shouldn't treat them as I would my own kin.''

''If you ask me you'd be much better suited as the Jarl than that blaggard Ulfric.'' Voldsea said loudly before taking a swig of her mead.

Brunwulf shook his head slowly ''You know I want no such title, besides the way things are going around here I see little point in it.''

Lianna paused before placing a piece of stew soaked bread into her mouth. ''Do you mean the improvements of the city?''

Free-Winter nodded ''Aye, the Jarl commissioned improvements to the Grey Quarter, the place is being rebuilt and there has been housing offered to the elves outside of the Quarter, even the Argonians are allowed passed the docks.''

''That explains all of the merry revellers.''

''But.'' There was a dark, almost sad note to the man's voice. ''just because the Jarl made a few changes for the better won't erase all the prejudice and the bad blood between both sides. The Argonians refuse to leave the docks and the Dunmer are reluctant to leave the safety of the Grey Quarter. I will be a long and hard road before the two sides will happily live together.'' The man retracted into silence, his eyes pensive. Voldsea and Lianna shared glances for a moment, the silence between them was broken by a loud chorus of an old war song from a nearby table.

_The Nords came down upon the town in the dark of night._

_With all the folk asleep._

_They killed all off the women, for-_

_They'd rather rape the sheep! _

Lianna didn't know whether the elves truly meant what they sang or rather they were too drunk to know of what they were singing. Brunwulf seemed not to be offended in any sense, he must have thought the latter. The old man was right it would be a long while before either side would forget and forgive the other.

''There's just one thing I don't understand.'' Voldsea began, her long dark fingers twisting the bottle on the table. ''Why. after all these years of segregation and prejudice, why they hell is the Jarl suddenly changing his tune now?''

''Maybe because of the war. He wants support after all.'' Lianna offered as she tore a hunk of break.

''No, I think the Dragonborn has something to do with it-Are you alright?'' The Breton had chocked on the bread at his words, Voldsea thumped the woman's back as she coughed.

''Fine.'' Lianna replied in a weak strained voice, she made a motion for him to continue.

''I mean look at the evidence, before that bloody dragon attacked, Ulfric wouldn't listen to a word of the elves's pleas. Then the dragon attacked, and the Dragonborn appears and stands up for the elves, and a few weeks later and there's all these improvements. I don't know what she did but she must have hit some kind of chord with him to change his ways.'' Lianna felt a heat rise up her neck.

''Well whatever the reason I'm just glad to see some positive change around here.'' Voldsea muttered, as if on cue a few of the drunkards began a rather rowdy verse of 'The Dragonborn Comes'

...

The sky was beginning to darken when Lianna left the New Gnisis Cornerclub, unfortunately the Cornerclub had no rooms to rent and so she was making her way to Candlehearth Hall for bed and board. She was still reeling from Brunwulf's words, she couldn't possibly be the reason for Ulfric suddenly helping the elves could she? She remembered Rikke's words to her in Solitude _''many have tried to get close to Ulfric and many have failed. He obviously trusts you.'' _She didn't quite know how to feel about the whole situation, she was of course happy that the elves were finally getting the aid they needed. But there was the fact that she had obviously swayed whatever opinion he had for the elves previously, and he respected her. A strange feeling settled in her stomach, one she had no name for, her face felt suddenly hot. Then there was the feeling of guilt that squeezed her heart, this man respected her- _liked _her and she was taking advantage of his trust to learn the details of his rebellion. _Oblivion will take me when all this is through. _She thought grimly.

''Dragonborn.'' Came a low voice from behind her, Lianna whirled quickly to find Ulfric Stormcloak standing there. A first she was confused for the use of her title, that was when she noticed the lone guard shadowing the Jarl. She was thankfully for twilight's gloom to hide her hot cheeks and her eyes that were wide fear.

''Jarl Ulfric.''

''Tell me what brings you to Windhelm.'' The man said, he made a motion for her too follow him, she took in step besides him.

''I have plans to travel to High Hrothgar, but I was low on supplies so I thought I would stop in Windhelm before I travel up the seven thousand steps.'' It wasn't a complete lie, she was low on supplies and she did have every intention to the monastery.

''High Hrothgar.'' Ulfric murmured thoughtfully, it sounded like he wanted to enquire further, Lianna noted the quick flicker of his eyes in the direction of the guard, that was following them a few paces back. But it seemed he would do so only when they were alone. ''The hour will soon be late, have you already taken a bed for the night?''

''No.''

''In that case, there is always a room for you at the Palace of the Kings.'' He shoot her a sideways glance, a small twitch of a grin at his lips ''That is, of course, if you are willing.''

_Why could you not refuse me? Why could you not hate me? This would so much easier if you despised me again..._ While the woman's head wished him to hate her, her heart gave a little leap of joy that he wished for her company in his court. Conflicted and utterly confused she forced a grin. ''I may just take you up on your offer.''

They fell into comfortable silence after that for a while, it was peaceful and almost comforting. There was no need for words between them, they were happy in that silence. Occasionally Ulfric would be recognised and the passerby would tip their head in respect, but for the most part they were not noticed. It was only when they passed by a torch and the light bathed them did he stop and turn to her. There was an elegant black sword tied to her hip.

''You have a sword?'' He asked surprised. Lianna looked down at the blade a small abashed grin spreading across her face.

''Yes.''

''Do you know how to use it?'' He asked sceptical

Her cheeks grew hot and she gave a small shake of her head. He laughed then, a great booming sound. Her cheeks reddened and her brow crumpled in annoyance.

''What's so funny?'' She asked angrily

''Why, _you _are.'' He chuckled ''You don't know anything of swords and yet you keep one!''

''Well I was planning on learning how to use it. I'm not simply keeping it for decoration.''

He regarded her know with a strange emotion in his eyes. ''And why is it that you wish to learn?''

''I don't know, but this sword... I think it chose _me... _It- It just feels right when I hold it. I think I was _supposed _to learn how to wield it.''

''A sword given to you by fate...'' He murmured quietly ''Have you found anyone who is willing to teach you?'' He asked turning to her.

''No, I haven't.''

They stared at each other for a full few seconds, their minds though separate were working towards answer for this question. Both reach the answer though neither voiced it for a moment, fearful of the others reaction.

''Could you teach me?'' Lianna finally asked.

She knew that if he accepted they would no longer simply be friends, they could not move back to that comfortable explanation for what they were. They would be no moving backwards, they would only be able to move forward. Her heart lifted at the possibilities while her head damned for suggesting the question.

''I would be honoured.''

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><p>If anyone is confused by the title Ulfric name means wolf.<p>

I was planning on making this chapter longer, but I'm currently sick and don't have the energy at the moment... The few chapters will have more Ulfric-Lianna interaction.

See you all next week :3


	40. Training Days

**Force.**Balance._Push._

Training Days

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><p>I think I'm drowning<br>Asphyxiated  
>I want to break the spell<br>That you've created

You're something beautiful  
>A contradiction<br>I want to play the game  
>I want the friction<p>

You will be  
>The death of me<br>Yeah, you will be  
>The death of me<p>

_Time is Running Out- Muse_

* * *

><p>It was strange to see her in anything other than her mage's robes, he had grown used to seeing her in the layers of soft orange and brown. Though the change wasn't for the worse he thought, she currently wore a simple shirt -which was slightly too big for her, and a pair of baggy trousers. She had also been lent a pair of leather braces and boots for her training. Though her new attire offered no real hint at the figure beneath the soft material it enabled him to make more accurate guesses.<p>

She had tied back her long hair to prevent it from getting in the way, with her hair pulled away from her face he was able to truly take in her facial structure. Her grey eyes seemed to burn into him more intently than before. He made a motion for her to follow as he began to lead down the long corridors of the palace, after a short time they came to an unassuming door. He stopped and turned to her.

''No one except I know what is beyond this door, and wish it to remain that way. You will tell no one of this place do you understand?''

Her eyes burned with awe and curiosity. ''I will tell no one.''

''Swear it.''

''I swear.'' She pressed her hand to her breast, over her heart. Ulfric nodded and turned to the door. He turned a key in the lock and the door swung open. He led her through a long narrow pitch black corridor, there was no need for a torch as he knew the way by heart. Lianna kept close as not to lose him in the darkness, her breath felt hot on his neck, his hair stood on end.

''This system of tunnels was built by Ysgramor himself, much like the rest of the palace.''

''But why? Why build a system of tunnels beneath his palace?'' Her voice asked loudly in the dark, she was nearing to him than he had realised, a small thrill ran through him.

_Stop._

''It is not simply a system of tunnels, there are also many chambers down here.''

''Chambers?''

''Ysgramor built this system of tunnels and chambers to train his sons and his bests soldiers.''

''Why not do that in the training yard?'' Her voice wavered, suggesting she was remembering the statue she had destroyed out it the old courtyard. She was embarrassed and regretful it seemed.

''Ysgramor had many enemies, all had many eyes. It would easy for a spy to gain intelligence on the training of his sons and his best warriors.''

There was a notable silence behind him for a few moments. ''But, to build all of this for the sake of secrecy seems a little extreme.''

''But necessary.''

They lapsed into silence as Ulfric led and she followed, he tried not to take note of her breath on his neck or the warmth of an unsure hand that would occasionally reach out in the darkness to make sure he was there. He had shed his fine cloak and his armour in favour of soft clothes and simply gauntlets suitable for training in, without his cloak or armour her soft brushes against his arm and back seemed all the more powerful, her fingers left burns on his skin.

_Focus._

''The existence of this place was passed down the line of those who ruled from the Palace of the Kings. From Ysgramor to his sons and right down to my father and then to myself. It is down here where every child with royal blood was taught how to fight. I was also taught here how to wield a blade, to become a warrior.'' He could still remember being a child -he couldn't have been more than five, and being led through the darkness by his father. He had been scared at the time, as any child would have been. The place reminded him of catacombs as it still did to this day, which is why as a child he had taken to calling it the Catacombs beneath the Palace of the Kings, even if they were nothing of the sort. The name stuck even to this day.

''But I am not of royal blood, why bring me down here?''

''There are several reasons.''

''Which are?''

''If you were to train out in the yard with the others you would freeze.'' He could practically hear her rolling her eyes, before he had used this to insult her but now his remark was genuine. She would freeze out in the yard in nothing but her soft training clothing, dead of winter or no. ''Another, is that I doubt you would like to train in front of audience.'' When there was no response he knew he was right, she was a prideful woman though so he knew she wouldn't admit it. ''Finally, you are the Dragonborn your blood is purer and more powerful than any royalty. Therefore you have the same right, if not more, to train here.''

There was a fourth reason behind his reasoning for bringing her down to the Catacombs though he didn't allow himself to admit to it. If she was down here than there were no possibilities for distractions, it would be simply himself and her in their own world. It was a simple desire to simply be alone with her, any man would admit to it selfish and self-serving as it was, but he was to be High King and so could not, and would not, allow himself to admit to it.

After a while of twisting and turning through the darkness the feeling of walls on either side of himself vanished. They were in one of the biggest chambers if his memory served him correctly. He stepped out into the sudden openness trying to remember where on the walls the torches were, when they came a shout from behind.

''Ulfric!'' Lianna's voice rang loudly against the stone that surrounded them, there was fear in her voice. Fear that the tight tunnels had suddenly stopped and now all was open, fear that she had lost him. Ulfric turned round to where he thought her voice had come from, from the darkness that come the sound of compressing air before a _pop _sounded and a blindingly bright white ball of light hovered in the air above their heads. The sudden harsh brightness burnt his eyes, he blinked heavily for a moment until he became accustomed to it. He found Lianna stood there, the fear dropped from her face the moment she saw him, relief burned in her eyes and an abashed grin spread across her face. ''Sorry, I thought that...'' Even though the white of the light bleached them both of colour he could sense that she was going red from the way she dipped her head in an attempt to hide it.

''I should be the one to apologise, I should have warned you.''

Surprise dwelled in her eyes for a moment before a grin of absolute victory spread across her face. ''So the great Ulfric Stormcloak admits to a fault.'' There was mischief burning in her eyes as she laughed.

Ulfric scowled slightly ''I have never said that I was without fault.''

''You've never apologised to me before.'' Lianna said quite simply, her frankness surprised him. It was indeed true he had never apologised to her before. Apologising meant weakness, something he could not show as a Jarl nor as a man. How many of his walls and facades would drop easily effortlessly to her? He was known for being uncaring, cold much the same as the Hold he governed. So how the hell had she managed to get past his cold exterior so easily, so seamlessly? He had told her things he had not dared to utter to another being before, yet with her it had been effortless. To most he was simply the Jarl- cold and practical, to a precious few he was also Ulfric the man. Yet with her there was no man behind a title, there was simply a man. While Ulfric silently worried just how far this woman had unknowingly gotten under his skin, Lianna began to light the several torches that were attached to the walls, completely and utterly ignorant to his inner turmoil.

When she was done the mage extinguished the strange floating white light in her palms, when all the torches lit the chamber was bathed in a soft golden flickering light, Fully illuminated it was just as he remembered, the room was long with a rather low lying ceiling with stone pillars running along the west and east of the room. There were several racks full with weapons on the north side of the space, some real and some wooden for training. Ulfric unhooked two from the rack and passed one to the Dragonborn. He watched as a flicker of surprise shone in the woman's eyes as she held the blade for the first time, the sword was weighted to strengthen the muscles in her arms and upper body. He watched mildly amused as she gripped the pommel with both hands, he raised his sword in the direction on her hands.

''Only one.'' Her left hand fell away from the hilt to her side, her grip on the pommel was, surprisingly, correct. ''Do you know anything about swordsmanship at all?''

An abashed grin flourished on her lips ''The pointy end if for stabbing.'' So he was working with a complete novice. Ulfric had never taught a novice before, maybe he should have handed her training over to someone who was more qualified for the job, someone with more patience. But his pride refused that option, he would teach her, not matter how much it might kill them.

He stood square in front of her, shoulders back arms folded behind him. ''A few rules first; while you are under my tutelage you will perform no magic.''

''At all!'' She sounded truly aghast, he resisted smirking by biting the inside of his cheek. ''Don't laugh.'' She shouted, the smirk had spread across his face.

''Don't you think you're being a bit over dramatic?''

''No, telling me not to use magic is like me telling you to give up your Jarl-ship.'' She shouted, quite suddenly her voice softened and her eyes lowered. ''Magic defines what I am, who I am. Without it...''

''You are no less of a person.'' He finished for her, her eyes shot to his. ''Magic may be a part of you, the same as a sword or bow is to a warrior. But it does not define you Your character, your heart and your conviction does.'' Admiration flickered in her eyes. ''You are not to use magic during our training sessions, does that seem more far.'' She nodded, not trusting her voice. ''Secondly, as you are my pupil you will follow my word without hesitation nor refusal.'' Again she nodded, the motion caused her hair to swish bringing his attention to it. ''It maybe more practical if you simply cut your hair.''

Her hand went to grip her tresses a small frown was forming on her face. ''What's wrong with my hair?'' She sounded slightly offended.

''Nothing, it would simply be more practical to cut it. Long hair gets in the way of battle.''

Her frown deepened, her grey eyes crackled with energy. ''I'm not cutting my hair.'' There was a long moment of stalemate neither refusing to back down from the stupid topic, eventually Ulfric sighed. ''Fine, have it your way. But if your arm gets lopped off during battle because of your own vanity don't come crying to me.''

''Don't flatter yourself, I wouldn't run crying to you in any circumstance.'' Her words stung him far more than they should have. Ulfric sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, they hadn't even started training yet and they had already started off on the wrong foot. Honestly he should have known better, he knew her well enough by now. If he -or anybody else- pushed her on a subject she didn't wish to pushed on, she would just push back harder. She was far too stubborn and impatient, but then again so was he.

''Get into your fighting stance.''

Lianna obeyed, she widened her stance and bent her knees slightly. He circled her like a wolf does a doe, her eyes followed his movement as he circled her. ''Face forwards.'' He murmured, her grey eyes stared deep into his before she faced forward. Her stance could be a bit wider, then she would be firmer and less likely to be pushed over, the petite thing that she was. But then he remembered that as a mage if she stood firm and confident she would be more likely hit by an oncoming attack, they needed to be quick and nimble. She had always appeared to be light on her feet. Her shirt was sleeves allowing him a view of her arm muscles, they looked soft this did not surprise him, they would need to work on building her upper body strength. He stopped when he was behind her, his eyes transfixed to her neck. With her hair gathered up it allowed him a view of her neck, it was there that his eyes found the long silver scar running down her neck it looked strange and foreign against her tanned skin. His eyes followed it till it curled around the base of her neck and down to her collar bone before it vanished beneath the fabric of her shirt.

Her voice from weeks ago suddenly ran his ears. _''I was taken to the Thalmor Embassy... I was tortured for a month.'' _He shut his eyes tightly for a moment to prevent his own memories from surfacing. So this is what those bastards had done to her. He felt violent anger and disgust burn over his body, swallowing his emotions he turned back around to face her.

''Attack me.''

Her eyes widened a second ''What?''

''You heard me, attack me. I need to see your form.''

She hesitated, obviously unsure. Raising her sword arm she lunged forward and brought down the wooden blade down onto his shoulder. He simply raised his arm, the blade connected with his gauntlets, the wood jarred in her hands and clattered to the floor, a soft hiss escaped her lips as her hands throbbed with pain. She reached for her sword, suddenly they were a flicker of movement at the Jarl placed his blade in front of her, preventing her from moving forward.

''What was that?''

''You told me to attack and I did.''

''I told you to attack me, not to half-heartedly hit me.''

''Well I didn't want to hurt you.'' The woman murmured.

Ulfric laughed, a great booming sound that shook the Catacombs. ''You could never hurt me, you arm is weak and sloppy.'' His condescending tone made her eyes flicker with anger. He moved his sword away from her, she leapt to her feet without hesitation. ''When you attack me, it must be as if your life depended on it. You must attack as if you were to kill me, any hesitation, anything held back would mean your end in a real fight. Do you understand?'' Ulfric passed the dropped sword back to her, as she reached for it their fingers brushed. Electricity shot through his body, he wondered if she had felt it too...

_Focus, she is you're student and nothing more. She is not some wench to be admired by a man double her own age. _

Lianna nodded, there was a look of uncertainty her eyes. She would not attack without holding back, this was a wall they needed to get over if she was serious about learning from him. Running a tongue over his teeth an idea sprouted in his mind, but it was crude, but then he had never exactly been chivalrous towards her.

''If you aren't willing to attack me now, how will you ever be able to attack someone on the battlefield? You call yourself the Dragonborn, you are the stuff of legends. But what I see before me is a soft weak girl who dares to call herself a warrior.'' Anger was written all over her face, he needed to push more if he wanted a reaction from her. ''You should have stayed in High Rock, you would have been better as a nobleman's broodmare with weak babes at your breasts-'' The reaction was instant, the air blurred in front of him, she whirled forward the blade reaching for its mark, his neck. He blocked and both blades connected with a snap, the swords shook as man and woman put their weight behind their swords. Her eyes were wild with rage there was a furious curl to her lip. He might have over done it.

With little effort the Jarl raised his leg and swung it round to connect with the back her knee, a sharp yell of surprise sounded from her lips as she tumbled to the ground. ''Better, much better. But watch your feet, your stance was sloppy.'' The scene before him was almost comical, she was sat on her arse looking up at with annoyance rolling off her in waves. He offered his hand to her, she took it. She would be nothing if not a pleasant distraction from governing a rebellion.

...

''This is completely hopeless,'' Lianna cried completely exasperated as she threw done the wooden sword. She then threw herself to the floor and covered her face with her hands. ''_I'm_ completely hopeless.'' She murmured between her fingers. Her skin glistened with sweat, a few tresses and escaped from her pony tail and now hung around her cheeks or were plastered to her neck. She sat up slowly and freed her hair, allowing it to fall around her. The breath caught in Ulfric's throat. Her damp skin, her frustrated exhausted grey eyes and her wild hair all caught the amber light of the torches, she looked like some holy otherworldly being all golden and shimmering.

''You're not hopeless.'' Ulfric said as he sat down beside her.

''Yes I am.'' She grumbled as she inspected her red and raw fingertips. Ulfric had forbade her from healing the skin with magic, he had told her they would need to heal naturally, that way the skin would become calloused.

''Lianna, you are many things; impatient, stubborn, and far too rash and reckless.''

''This better be going somewhere, Ulfric.'' The woman cut in.

''But you're also brave and caring - and I say this as someone who has been in an argument with you, you're passionate and determined. You're not hopeless, not in any sense of the word.'' She looks at him then with a vulnerability that reminded him that she may be the Dragonborn but beneath that there was still a young woman who was not so sure of herself as everyone else was.

''Thank you, Ulfric.'' Her smile was soft.

For a moment there was nothing but silence between them, just the occasional crackle of the torches breached the tranquility.

''Even so, I still can't swing a sword properly to save my life.''

''Well I can't argue with that.'' He chuckled, she lightly punched his arm.

Days had passed since Ulfric had began training the Dragonborn, and in that time it was made apparent to them both why she had learnt magic and not how to swing a blade. She forgot to block at the right times, she parried too early or too late and for the life of her couldn't get her stance right when she was on the defensive, and the list went on and on. But she was good at avoiding the blade, though her instinct was to dodge it rather than use her own blade to block. Old habits died hard, it seemed. Ulfric had learnt through their training sessions that she was excellent at analysing her opponents movements, he supposed this stemmed from the fact that mages couldn't afford to be struck down in battle. Just after a few training sessions she had already memorised and dissected Ulfric's own fighting style. But knowing your opponents next move only went so far, if you couldn't cut them down then you were just a sitting target. It was going to a long and hard road ahead of them, Ulfric was very sure of that.

Ulfric quite suddenly rose. ''I know how to improve your mood.''

Her eyes were quizzical ''How?''

''Meet me outside the main gates in an hour, dress warmly.''

...

''You said you were planning to travel to High Hrothgar.''

''Yes, I'm looking for a Shout.''

''A Shout?''

''The old Nords apparently used a Shout to rip dragons from the sky, if I knew it than maybe I would have a way of defeating Alduin.''

''Alduin, The World Eater?''

''No, Alduin the fuzzy rabbit.''

''I thought his return was just myth and legend.''

''Legends don't burn down villages, though.''

They had been wading through the deep snow for about half an hour, Ulfric had so far not divulged the reason for leaving the nice toasty warmth of the palace for the biting chill of a winter afternoon, she only hoped his reasons were good. If not she would have to show him just how reckless she could be.

''How did you learn to Shout, Ulfric?''

He turned back to look at her, surprised at her sudden curiosity, but then he couldn't blame her. They were the only two mortals who wielded the Voice.

''I was but a lad when I was called forward by the Greybeards.''

''Why call forward a child?''

''It normally takes years to master a Shout, you are an obvious exception to that rule. I trained there for nearly ten years, I was to be a Greybeard myself.''

''What happened? Couldn't grow a beard?''

''The Aldmeri Dominion happened, the Great War happened.''

''Oh.''

The wind suddenly died down, Lianna dropped the hood of her fur cloak. Ulfric watched idly as snowflakes melted into her hair and eyelashes.

''It mustn't have been much fun as a child, up on that lonely mountain, away from your family.''

Ulfric shrugged. ''It is a great honour to learn from the Greybeards, even as a child I knew that, I suppose I was never bored as I was always learning.''

''I don't know if I could stand ten years now, let alone as a child, on that freezing mountain with only a bunch of mute hermits for company.''

''Which is why I was to be made a Greybeard and you won't be, you lack the patience.''

''And the capacity to grow a beard. I do miss it sometimes, the stillness of it, the... calmness.''

''Aye, I believe that its that last place in Skyrim that is truly at peace.''

As they walked deeper into the wilderness of Eastmarch the surrounding dizzying tall black firs became fewer and fewer until they were there was nothing but snow stretching out for miles in front of them. Here Ulfric stopped Lianna stood waiting for his instruction. There was little doubt in her mind as to why there were here, especially considering their conversation on the way.

''Tell me how many Shout do you know.''

''Only six.''

''Do you know Fire Breath?'' Lianna shook her head.

''Then stand back and watch.''

Lianna took a few steps away from the Nord and watched eyes expectant and eager. Ulfric took in a slow breath and closed his eyes for a second, focusing.

''YOL TOOR SHUL!''

A great stream of fire leap from the man's lips, the air burned with reds and golds as the fire smouldered, slowly the the fire weakened until it dissipated completely. He turned back to face her, there was awe in her eyes. ''Now your turn Dragonborn, try the first word.''

Determination flashed in the woman's eyes as she sucked in a slow breath. The wind pulled at her hair gently as she closed her eyes, he had never seen her more still or as calm as she was now.

''YOL!''

Fire leapt from the Breton's lips, though weaker and smaller than the Jarl's had been. Ulfric felt a small flicker of jealousy, it had taken him years to master each word of Fire Breath, she had done what had taken him months of hard work in a matter of seconds. He was a fool for being jealous of her he told himself, she was the Dragonborn, so of course all of this came naturally to her. Lianna turned back to Ulfric a bright smile on the lips.

''Well done. Now if only you learnt how to swing a sword as quickly as you Shout we might actually begin to get somewhere.'' Ulfric was cut off by a snowball colliding with his face.

* * *

><p>''She's tonnes of fun, and your no fun at all. She completes you'' I think this quote describes their relationship pretty well, 'cause lets face it, Ulfric is too grumpy and too up himself to be any fun. And then Lianna comes along...<p> 


	41. The Not So Holy Temple

Sorry for the long wait, writer's block decided to make me its bitch...

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

The Not So Holy Temple

* * *

><p>Where you go I go<br>What you see I see  
>I know I'll never be me without the security<br>Of your loving arms  
>Keeping me from harm<br>Put your hand in my hand  
>And we'll stand<p>

Let the sky fall  
>When it crumbles<br>We will stand tall  
>And face it all together<p>

_Adele-Skyfall_

* * *

><p>They held a funeral for Orvar that night, high on the slope of the west side of the natural bay that was Dawnstar. The ceremony was a small one, the only guests being the group of Stormcloaks and their captain. Instead of a headstone -stone was in short supply thanks to the war, they stuck a post at the head of the boy's grave. Adair had scratched into it; <em>Here lies Orvar, the best tactician in the Stormcloak Army. 4E 185 - 4E 201.<em> Adair had wanted to place a few flowers around the grave, but in a city where there was a constant layer of snow, and being the dead of winter, any flora was hard to come by. So instead Freyja had made a wreath of snowberries to lie besides the grave. Little was said as not many knew the boy all that well, when a few words had been said by Erold each Stormcloak approach the grave and murmured their goodbyes to the boy. When it was Adair's turn he knelt beside the post and rested his hand against it for a moment.

''I only wished we could have know each other better. Talos guide you, Orvar.''

When they had all said their words they began back down the slope, the lights of Dawnstar blinking back up at them. The lighthouse high on the opposite side of the city burned a hole in the blackness of the night sky. Adair reached for Svedi's hand as they trudged down in silence, his eyes blurred with tears.

...

The aviary was a large circular room; the birds were kept in cages that lined the walls, above every few cages a name of a province was scratched above it. Adair noted that beneath the set of cages labelled as _Summerset Isle _there were no birds, the cages looked liked they hadn't been used in a number of years. The aviary was drafty, the walls in some places had completely crumbled away leaving large gaping holes in the towers structure, so the harsh wind constantly shuddered through the building. Adair pulled his over furs tightly against himself, the floor was littered with the soft fluttering downy feathers of the birds, which would occasionally be picked up and tossed about by the wind. Adair approached a Nord who was tending to some of the birds, the Nord turned to the Breton and looked him up and down, taking in his Stormcloak cuirass. The Nord's eyes narrowed with displeasure; there was a small unmistakable twinkle of fear in his eyes. The birds began making a racket on their perches, sensing the sudden tension.

''Taxes were paid las' month.'' The man's eyes flickered to the greatsword strapped to the younger man's back.

''I'm not here for taxes.''

''D'en what d'want wih me? I ain't got no coin.'' The Nord snapped back, Adair watched the man half slide into a fighting stance, his hand on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his waist. Adair didn't know whether to call the man stupid or brave.

''I don't want your coin.'' Adair replied trying to keep his voice even, he reached into his satchel and removed the letter to his father. ''I want to send a letter.'' The Nord eyed the Breton suspiciously before relaxing his stance and taking the letter from the man. The man grumbled angrily to himself as he took the letter. 'Fucking soldiers-giving me trouble-takin' all my coin-bastards' Adair tried to keep his temper while to man grumbled to no one in particular. The Nord paused in his anger as he read the name written on the envelope, he looked up at the soldier curiously.

''Magusson? The trading company?''

''Aye.''

''What ya doin' sendin' a letter to Crevan Magusson, Stormcloak?''

Adair's eyes narrowed. ''It isn't for business if you're wondering,'' the man replied a slither of anger seeping into his voice. This Nord was obviously no Stormcloak sympathiser; it was quite possible that he was in the pocket of a local Imperial lord. ''You can read it yourself if you want.''

The night before he had spent many an hour over the piece of parchment wondering what exactly to tell his father. He had decided that it was better if Crevan knew nothing of his daughter's status as the Dragonborn, it would only complicate things. And besides he doubted his father would believe him anyway, after all he had taken him days to fully believe that she was the legendary Dovahkiin and he had seen her take a dragon's soul. Adair had mentioned little of himself in the letter, his father was by no means a political man but he had important ties with the Empire.

''I'll take your word for it.'' The Nord replied, the man made his way to the cages beneath the title of _High Rock_ he stopped at the cages. Now that he was closer Adair could see that on each individual cage there were the names of the different prominent cities. ''I'm guessin' its bein' sent to Daggerfall.''

''Yeah.''

The Nord gave an unintelligent grunt and pulled a pigeon from one of the cages marked _Daggerfall_. The Nord attached a strange harness to the birds back, the pigeon flapped madly as the loops of the harness were lifted over its wings. ''You know Crevan, then?'' The man held the flustered bird tight as he buckled the harness into place.

''We're... old friends. But I don't think anybody really _knows_ him.'' _Not even his own son. _

The Nord snorted, he took the letter from the Breton, folded it and tucked it into a small compartment attached to the bird's harness. ''What do ya expec' man's a merchant. They're slippery bastards.'' Adair didn't know whether to drive his fist into the man's jaw or agree with him, so he did neither. He simply stood and watched as the now harnessed bird was carried in the man's large hands and released into the sky. The bird's wings stretched out in the soft falling snow, the clapping wings speeding it through the chilling wind of Dawnstar.

...

They had grown close, Adair realised. In the weeks that the two had been together they had been near inseparable, not that he was complaining of course. If they weren't on missions together than they would be enjoying each other's company in the barracks, like they were currently. They could talk long into the night, or could be content to sit in silence beside each other. The line between a platonic relationship and a romantic one had become blurred, though neither he nor she had acted on their obvious feelings, it had left them in some kind of limbo. One which both were too cautious to cross.

He knew he was not the only one to notice their relationship; his male peers had been quick to leave the pretty Stormcloak well alone, especially when a brawl had broken out when one of them had asked her to join him in his bed. Adair had only been too happy to give the Nord a broken nose for his troubles. The men quickly forgot about the woman, after all she wasn't the only female in their ranks. Though fraternising was generally discouraged, lover's emotions simply got in the way on the battle field; there was little that could be done about it. Though in most cases any kind of courtship between soldiers was something born out fear of death, the longing for comfort and for the touch of another. Most relationships never lasted longer than it took for the two individuals to roll out of bed in the morning.

Adair liked to think that he and Svedi were the exception, not that he hadn't dreamt of her in his bed, he was of course a man with all the desires of a grown man. He had his fair share of flings, his past as a sell sword had assured him that. But he was no longer a twenty-something lad, he was a man that was drawing closer to his twenty ninth year. He wanted something more substantial than a fling in the dead of night. As for what Svedi wanted, he had no idea. She was his junior by two years; from their talks he had learnt that she had lived a rather boring life on her father's farm. Maybe she simply wanted one exciting, blood racing night, not any kind of a relationship. Adair was pulled from his musing by a harsh outburst of anger from Erold.

''Sir?'' Asked one of the soldiers. Erold sighed deeply, an angry fist screwed a piece of parchment in his hands, he spat out of outrage. The Stormcloaks traded curious glances.

''Imperial forces have breached our line of defence in Whiterun hold.'' All eyes widened, a rumble of worry swept through the group.

''How?'' Asked a large Nord who had been previously playing cards with some of the others.

''They must have slipped through when the borders weren't being patrolled. Damn spies.'' Erold spat again.

''Have the Imperials taken any ground?''

''No, thank Talos. But the damage has already been done. The Imperials have many eyes it seems.'' Erold growled dangerously as he slumped down into a chair.

''What are we to do, sir?''

''Nothing, so far. While you are posted here your only concern is to protect the borders of Dawnstar.''

''But sir, what about Whiterun?''

''Whiterun is none of your concern until you are posted there soldier. Whiterun is Officer Anundr's concern and the soldiers posted under him.''

''So there's nothing we can do?'' Asked Freyja quietly.

''No.''

The previously happy relaxed atmosphere was forgotten as they all sat stunned by the news, their minds reeling. Far away in the night a wolf howled.

...

Adair fell into the chair by the hearth, a tired sigh escaping his lips. Erold had been working them like dogs to make sure no Imperials had made their way into the hold. It had been the first time in a number of days that he had a moment of peace and respite. Windpeak Inn was unusually quiet with only a few workers from the mines and a man dressed in the robes of a priest present.

''Here you go.'' Adair looked up to see Svedi passing him a bowl of steaming soup; he took it with a kind word of thanks. The two drank the soup with the ferocity akin to famished dogs, their usual rations had left their bellies far less than full. Adair watched idly as the miners approached the priest, he inclined his head in their direction so he could hear their conversation better.

''The dreams they seem so real, Erandur.''

''I assure you my dear, that they are simply dreams. And dreams can do you know harm.'' From his accent Adair deduced that the priest was a dunmer.

''I know, but it seems so _real._ The same dream over and over again.'' The miner insisted.

The priest's voice was soothing and kind. ''I assure that no harm will come to you. You have nothing to fear, I assure you.''

Adair and Svedi traded glances, their curiosity pricked. They had heard much about the nightmares that plagued the residence of Dawnstar, but when asked nobody had any answers as to what was causing them or how to stop them. This elf however, appeared to have some insight into the situation.

The two Stormcloaks approached the elf, ''Hello my children, I am a priest of Mara. How may I be of help.''

''We were wondering about the nightmares everyone has been suffering from. You seem to know about it more than most.'' Svedi said, the elf stiffened notably beneath his hooded robe. ''Everyone is suffering from terrible nightmares, they are in terrible danger. And I fear that there is nothing I can do to help them.'' The elf's voice was calm, if not too careful.

''But dreams can't actually hurt people. You said it yourself.'' Svedi replied.

Erandur gave a shake of his head, ''I simply said that so not to cause a panic. If these people truly knew what was happening it would be mass chaos.''

''So what's so dangerous about these nightmares, then?'' Adair asked

''These dreams are created by the Daedric Lord Vaermina.'' Svedi stiffened besides him, her eyes wide with fear. ''She has an appetite for the memories of mortals, in return she leaves behind chilling nightmares. I must end her influence over these people before the damage becomes permanent. I need to return to the source of all of this, to Nightcaller Temple. Perhaps you're willing to help me in this regard.''

''You can't be serious! Going up against a _Daedric Lord_!'' Svedi spluttered ''We'd be killed in seconds!'' Adair pressed his hand to her shoulder, both as a sign of reassurance and to tell her to keep her voice down.

''What do you mean by 'return'? You've already been there?'' Adair's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Erandur stiffened noticeably.

''I've said too much. I simply ask you to trust me and help me to rid Dawnstar of these nightmares.''

''Could you excuse us for just a sec?'' Svedi's voice was a quivering uneasy note. The Nord pulled him away from the elf, she leant her head to his. Adair tried to focus on her words and not the soft dusting of freckles across her cheeks or her sweet breath or her kind eyes.

''Are you _insane_!? You don't actually trust this nut-job, do you?'' Svedi hissed.

''I have my doubts... But-''

''But? _But? _Adair we're talking about a Daedric Lord here, not a couple of bandits. _Daedra._''

''Don't you want to do something about Dawnstar's nightmares? Soon we'll start suffering from them too, you saw those guys on the cart and Erold, soon we'll be just like them.''

''I do, I really do Adair. But I just think you're wasting your life if you chose to go to this temple.''

''So you won't come with me.''

Guilt was heavy in her eyes, ''No, I'm sorry. I just-'' She lowered her eyes, her voice cracked with fear ''I can't.''

''Right.'' Adair murmured, he quickly pulled her into an embrace. Her cheek pressed into the curve of his neck, she closed her eyes breathing in his smell for what may be the last time. She couldn't be sure but she thought she felt him press his lips to her hair. The two unfurled themselves from each other, she watched numbly as he approached the elf again.

''I trust you. Now, how can I help.''

A grin flashed on the elf's face ''Excellent. Mara will be pleased! Nightcaller Temple is only a short walk from here. We best hurry.''

Adair followed the priest out into the cold night, he hesitated at little up the road, turning half around to the Inn hoping that Svedi would burst through the doors and join him, a grin stretched her face and fire in her eyes. But she never did.

...

Adair stumbled back on the ice, his frostbitten fingers grasping desperately for his greatsword. The snow bear lunged upon him and Erandur, thinking quickly the breton grabbed the elf by his robes and leapt back down the slope, away from the deadly jaws and claws of the bear. They tumbled and rolled in the snow only stopping when their backs crashed into large stones jutting from the ice choked earth. There came a blood chilling thumping from above them, the heavy crashing lollops of the bear drawing closer, the blood in their veins froze. Adair ripped the sword from his back; he shakily pulled himself to his feet. The ringing in his ears stopped as a roar ripped through the sky, a huge figure rose into the air above them, dark intelligent eyes locked onto them. Jowls pulled back revealed sharp long teeth, the beast snarled. Adair readied his stance, the bear lunged forward.

The air shuddered as the towering beast lunged for them. Above the roar of the beast and Adair's own voice there came the unmistakable whistle of an arrow. Adair and Erandur watched, mouths agape, as a long slender arrow _thunked! _Straight into the monsters throat. The bear gave a strangled gargled roar as blood painted its neck and chest crimson. There came another whistle followed shortly after by a _thunk! _The bear tottered in place; the arrow had landed its mark in the beast's chest, in the heart. The bear dropped to ground and was still.

Both men turned back in the direction from which the arrows had been released. Out of the snowy wind stepped a woman in Stormcloak armour, bow in hand, wearing a brilliant smile.

Adair's heart swelled.

_Svedi. _

''You didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, did you?'' Svedi beamed as she approached.

''I thought-''

''That I'd be too scared to come?'' Svedi supplied, a grin forming ''Believe me, I'm terrified. But I'm going to let you be an idiot and get yourself killed. If we even live through this I'll make sure to kill you myself.''

Erandur cleared his throat; the two had forgotten that they had an audience. ''If you two are quite done then we better keep going.'' Colour splashed across the woman's as she fell in steep besides both men.

...

''There. Down There, can you see it? That is what is causing Dawnstar's nightmares.'' Adair hands curled around the bars and leant against the grate, what he saw made the breath catch in his throat and his hair stand on end. Far away down at the bottom of the dark tower was a strange pulsating red evil ward, his eyes focused on what the ward was protecting.

''A staff...''

''The Staff of Corruption. We must destroy it, let us hurry.''

The trio jogged down a flight of stairs, Svedi's skin crawled at the knee high purple mist. _The Miasma_. She remembered Erandur's words to them before entering, the orc invaders and the priests would awaken once the temple became unsealed. _Which means there's trouble ahead. _With a shudder she also remembered the man explaining that being exposed to the strange magic for too long could drive the mind insane. _If we live through this Adair's never going to hear the end of it. _

''Look sharp.'' Adair shouted as two tall figures staggered out of the mist towards them. Adair threw himself against the larger of the two, leaving the thinner one to Svedi and Erandur. Svedi smashed her shield into the orcs face; he staggered back blood gushing from his broken nose.

''That's all you got?'' The orc jeered, Svedi gritted her teeth and raised her mace. She was beaten to the punch however, by a stream of fire that consumed the invader, her gut twisted at the use of magic and at the man's screams as he burnt to death. When the man, or what remained of him, collapsed to the ground the fire stopped. Erandur appeared from behind her one palm holding a now small weak looking flame. A prickle of unease shot through her, she had never trust magic. The priest's eyes narrowed guessing her thoughts correctly but pushed onwards without a word to her.

They carried down the dark corridor the loud pulsating ward magic sending shivers up the woman's spine. They were prevented from going any further by a purple ward stretching across their path.

''Damn it. The priests must have activated this barrier when the Miasma was released.''

''Looks difficult to breach.'' Svedi murmured as she stepped towards the barrier, she raised her hand, curious. Suddenly a hand grasped her wrist, the grip though firm was gentle. Looking up she saw Adair's stern expression that seemed to say 'Don't touch it, idiot' Her cheeks flushed at her own folly. ''It's impossible actually, hmm I wonder...'' The man and woman turned their attention back to the elf. ''There may be a way to bypass the barrier, but I must check the library to confirm it can be done.'' Adair's and Svedi's brow lowered. _Library? How does he know there's a library here? _Then Svedi remembered his words to them back in the inn _'I need to return...I've said too much.'_

''Erandur, you seem to know an awful lot about this place.'' Adair said his voice calm and controlled.

The elf sighed heavily, ''I suppose there's no point in hiding the truth any longer... My knowledge of this temple comes from personal experience, I was once a priest of Vaermina.''

There was few seconds of silent tension between them, save the constant pounding pulsating wards. The revelations rocketed through her, ''I knew it! You're a liar.'' Svedi growled venom laced in her voice.

''You should have told us the truth.'' Svedi regarded Adair in a curious fashion. He himself said that he didn't trust the man, so what the hell was with his reaction? Why was he so calm and cool about the whole thing? ''I know but if I had told you the truth from the off would have you come with me?'' So he had been desperate, her eyes found themselves focusing on Adair. Maybe he had been in a similar situation before, maybe that was why he was acting all calm and cool. ''When the orcs raided the temple. I fled. Leaving my brothers and sisters behind to die.'' _Coward. _''I've spent the last few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from Mara. Under her guidance I will right my wrongs.''

Adair nodded as if he understood. ''It's best we carry on.''

...

''We're looking for a book called 'The Dreamstride. It bears the likeness of Vaermina on the cover. It should be here somewhere...''

Erandur began his search on the lower level of the library while Svedi and Adair checked the shelves of the balcony above. Once they were out of ear shot Svedi asked;

''What the hell does Vaermina look like?''

''How the hell should I know.''

''So, we're looking for a book with the likeness of Vaermina on it and we have no idea what she looks like. This can only go well.'' Svedi said flatly

''If you want you can go and ask Erandur, I'll stay here and keep looking.''

''I'll pass, this place gives me the creeps.''

''I know what you mean.''

After trawling through probably hundreds of ruined and burnt books they had nothing to show for their efforts. Feeling defeated the two started towards the stairs in the hopes Erandur had found the book. As they started down the steps something caught Svedi's eye, turning to look she saw a book placed on a pedestal _Looks promising._ She raced back up the steps and back along the balcony, she skidded to a stop, eyes wide. The balcony had fallen away, meaning she would need to jump. Measuring the distance she bent her knees and leapt across, landing rather ungracefully on the other side.

The book was bound in soft silver blue leather; it was an incredibly thick book Svedi noted. Which meant it was likely heavy, picking it up she found she was indeed correct. She wouldn't be able to jump across while carrying it, which meant it would need to be thrown. She hopes Erandur had no great respect books.

''Catch!'' She shouted as she threw the tome across the gap, Adair caught it, just. He was surprised at how heavy the book was. After leaping across the pair started back down the stairs again. It being just the two of them Svedi asked the question that had been bugging her.

''Adair, why'd you forgive Erandur so quickly? I mean the guy lied to us to get us to come to a temple infested with orcs and crazy priests.''

''When I met him I recognised him as a man who was desperate, not only to help, but also desperate to repay a debt he owed. It showed him mercy because I have been in the same situation before.'' Svedi regarded the man curiously; his details of his past were a mystery to her. She wondered what had exactly happened to him thoughtfully. It was quite possible that she would never know which only made her hunger to know his past stronger.

...

Svedi presented the book to the priest who took it from her quickly. ''Praise Mara, you've found it!'' The elf started furiously flicking through the pages before stopping suddenly at a page, his eyes darting from left to right quickly. ''There is a way passed the barrier to the inner sanctum. It involves a recipe for a liquid known as Vaermina's Torpar.''

''Is that some kind of potion?'' Adair asked.

''Yes. The Topar grants an ability the priests of Vaermina called 'The Dreamstride' using dreams to travel distances in the real world.''

''That's impossible.'' Svedi murmured stunned.

A smirk pulled at the elf's lips ''I assure 'The Dreamstride' is well known in Vaerminian Lore. However, I have yet to see it work on a person.''

''One of us is going to be a test subject, aren't we?'' Adair said flatly.

''As a priest of Mara the Topar wouldn't work on me. It only works on the priests of Vaermina and the unaffiliated.''

''This doesn't exactly sound very... safe.'' Svedi said uneasily.

''I won't lie to you, there is indeed some risk involved. The last time the Torpor was imbibed could have been decades ago. But I swear upon lady Mara that will do everything in my power within prevent any harm from befalling you.''

''I'll do it.'' Svedi's eyes widened she turned to the man, worry in her eyes. She was about to argue with him then she noted the look on his face, there was determination burning in his eyes. She would not be able to persuade him otherwise it seemed. ''So where exactly can we find the Torpor?''

''I believe there is a laboratory on the east wing. If we proceed there we may find a sample.''

They followed to priest through the dark corriodrs of the temple, after a little while there came to a room full of different alchemy ingredients. For figures stirred in the mist at their feet, Svedi was quick to smash her mace into the back of a priest's head as he staggered to his feet. He crumpled to the floor and didn't rise again.

''Svedi!'' Adair barked, she turned just in time to see an orc raising his battleaxe above his head. _Too slow! _Svedi span out of the way, the high note of the weapon connecting with the stone where she had just been stood, ringing in her ears. The orc readied his weapon again, Svedi lunged throwing her weight into her arms, thrusting her shield into the man's chest knocking him backwards. Her mace ripped through his windpipe, blood sputtered from the deadly wound as the man fell, dead. Adrenaline still rocketing through her veins she looked up to see Erandur and Adair standing over several bodies. Erandur extinguished the flame in his palm and placed his mace back on his hip.

''Now, without any further interruptions we should be able to find the Torpor. It will most likely be in a small dark bottle, I'll being the search up here. You two look down there.'' The elf signalled down a flight of stairs to a lower section of the laboratory.

The shelves were bursting with different potions, healing and stamina (these she pocketed for future use) and many others she had never seen before. After a while of searching she heard Adair shout;

''I think I've found it.''

Svedi and Erandur quickly rushed over to the man. In his hand was a small dark bottle, the liquid inside the glass bottle appeared to be bubbling, the hairs on Svedi's neck prickled. Erandur took the small bottle from the breton and began to inspect it. ''I'm relieved you discovered a bottle intact, it looks like the orcs ransaked this place.'' He pressed the bottle back into the Adair's palm. ''I have taken us this far, but now we need you to guide us... Drink.''

''Here? Now?'' Svedi asked sharply, fear evidently slipping into her voice.

''Dawnstar's fate rests in that tiny bottle. The more we wait the more damage Vaermina will do to those poor people. I understand your hesitation, but I promise it will work. And that no harm will befall you.'' He added to Svedi reading the worry and fear in her eyes.

Adair uncorked the bottle, he gave Svedi a reassuring sheepish smile. He pressed the bottle to his lips and drank.

Adair's body sagged, but before he could fall back Svedi wrapped her arms around his torso to gently lower his body to lean against the wall. She knelt beside him for a moment and tenderly stroked his cheek. _Please come back to me safe. Please._

''I'm promise you, no harm with befall your husband.''

Svedi rose to her feet, her face growing hot. ''H-he is n-not my h-husband.''

Erandur raised an eyebrow but said nothing further. Quite suddenly Adair began to glow a strange purple, panic rising in her throat Svedi rushed forward but was stopped by an arm grabbing hold of her shoulder. ''Don't. This is part of the process.'' The purple light around the man grew stronger to the point where the light completely consumed the man's slumped form.

''Adair!'' Svedi screamed, Erandur's grip on her tightened.

Quite suddenly the light dissipated, see spots Svedi blinked back against the pain. The libratory was dark and gloomy again. And Svedi's horror Adair was nowhere to be seen.

''_Adair!''_

...

Adair found himself looking through eyes that weren't his, in a body that wasn't his own. He was obviously in the temple, but where exactly he wasn't sure. Two priests of Vaermina were stood before him, talking quickly and urgently.

''The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren.''

We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands!'' Veren replied

''But only a handful of us remain, brother.'' The other spluttered

''Then we have no choice, the Miasma must be released.''

''The Miasma! But brother-'' He began.

''We have no other alternative now. It is the will of Vaermina.'' Veren cut in. Quite suddenly Veren turned to Adair. ''What about you Brother Casimir? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?''

''I've made my peace. I am ready.'' A voice that wasn't his own replied.

''Then it's decided. Brother you must activate the barrier and released the barrier. Let nothing stop you.''

Legs that weren't his own raced to the doorway, before pausing and turning and looking back for a moment. Through Casimir's eyes Adair could see the Skull protected by the same red evil barrier, the two priests stood defiantly in front of it. ''Go Brother, we will protect the skul with our lives.'' Veren called out. At those words Casimir turned and ran down the corridor.

The roar of battle rang in Adair's ears as Casimir carried them both through twisting corridors of Nightcaller Temple he only hopes that Casimir knew where he was going. Screams of the orcs and the priests ran in his ears, he smelled the hot tang of blood and burning flesh. Casimir ran through the battles with ease, the orcs far too focused in their battles than one lone priest. Quite suddenly Casmir skidded to a stop in front of a large chain, Adair felt the man's arms reach out a pull it down with all his might.

...

Light, purple light. That was the first thing Adair saw as he opened his eyes. A strange light beam of light rushed around and through his body, turning Adair saw that that whatever the strange energy was it creating the ward spell behind him. Then he realised when he was, the chain to release the Miasma was beside him... He was on the other side of the barrier. So the Topar had worked. So now he had to break the ward somehow, he reached into the circle of light were it was the strongest, his fingers found a small hard crystal he ripped it from the wall. Still it emitted that strange magic energy, thinking on his feet he threw the crystal to the floor with all his force. The crystal shattered into tiny fragments which were sent skittering across the floor in all different directions.

''Adair!'' A voice called out from the other side, before the man could fully turn a body barrelled into him. Fingers gripped him so tightly he was sure he would bruise, the warmth from her soft shaking body made him giddy. He wrapped his arms tightly around her.

''I thought- That I would never see you again. I thought-'' Svedi sniffed between soft sobs. He stroked her hair gently.

''I'm not going anywhere, Svedi.'' He murmured, as he wiped away her tears with his thumb.

Her eyes were damp and red, her face was thick with grim and blood. Her hair was partially pulled from her usual braid. He had never seen her so beautiful. Heat spread across her cheeks, her heart raced, she couldn't believe she was going to day it. ''Adair, I l-''

Someone coughed awkwardly behind them, suddenly they were no longer alone, they had an audience. She pulled herself from his arms and furiously wiped at her eyes, her face was a radiant red, and she dared not to meet either man's eye.

''Fascinating... After you drank the Torper you vanished, I've never seen anything like it. And then you appear here. Amazing.'' The elf said in awe.

''It was remarkable... Like I was really there. Like some weird kind of weird dream.''

''How I envy you, to see the history take place before your very eyes... But I forget myself, the inner sanctum is ahead. We must reach the Skull and end Dawnstar's woes.''

...

The Skull of Corruption stood before them, Adair was about to start up the steps when Erandur called out. ''Wait!'' Stopping Adair watched as two figures stepped from out of the shadows, a gasp escaped his lips. They were the two priests he had seen during the Dreamstride. They held naked steel in their hands, Svedi dropped into a fighting stance.

''Veren... Thorek... You're alive!'' Erandur said amazed.

''No thanks to you, Casimir.'' Veren growled.

So Casimir was Erandur...

''I no longer use that name. I am now Erandur, Priest of Mara.''

''You're a traitor.'' Veren growled ''You left us to die will you ran before the Miasma could take you.''

''No... I was... I was not ready to sleep.'' Stammered the elf.

''Enough of your lies!'' Veren cried ''I cannot allow to destroy the Skull Priest of Mara.''

''Then you leave me no choice!''

Veren and Erandur leapt for each other, leaving Svedi and Adair with Thorek. Svedi and Adair dodged as the priest shot bolts of lightning from his fingers, the crackling of sparks ringing in their ears. The two rushed in from either side, but both mace and sword and struck air. The mage had leapt into the air to evade. Adair growled, he was far more nimble then they were. There came the crackle of energy again, bolts leapt for them. Svedi raised her shield, protecting them for a moment.

''I'll take him from behind, you keep him busy.''

Svedi gave a short nod of her head. When the stream of energy stopped they took their chance. Adair darted to left, arching in a wide circle. Svedi leapt straight for the mage, a battle cry sounding from her throat. Electricity buzzed in the air, raising her shield to deflect the spell as she continued for the mage. Her shield smashed into the mages face knocking him back, Adair took his chance to ripe his sword through the man's neck from behind. The priest's head rolled and bounced to the floor. Gasping the two turned to see Erandur stood over Veren, his bloody mace in hand. A single tear glided down the elf's cheek.

''I knew Veren and Thorek... They were my friends.'' He said sadly, guiltily. ''Is this punishment for my past? Is it Mara's will to torment me so!''

''Some friends, they tried to kill us.'' Svedi said.

''You are right... And had they been successful Dawnstar's fate would be sealed.'' The man snapped out of his dark reverie. ''It is time the Staff must be destroyed. If you stand back I'll perform the ritual granted to me by my Lady Mara.''

The two stepped back and watched as Erandur began his ritual, murmuring strange words.

''He's deceiving you.'' Came a sickly sweet voice in his ear. ''Once the ritual is over Erandur will turn on you. Kill him now, Vaermina commands you!''

_As if I'd listen I'd listen to you Vaermina. This man has not wronged us, if he wishes to kill us I'd like to see him try._

Red light began to surround Erandur, there came a cracking sound. _The Staff! It's breaking! _The Staff shattered into tiny pieces, out of the staff exploded a dark shape. It took the vaporous figure of a woman, two red eyes burnt in the smoke. The ghostly figure gave a gut wrenching scream before exploding, into a pile of smoking ash before them.

Erandur staggered before he stumbled down the steps, Svedi and Adair steadied the man. There was no relief in his eyes, only sadness.

''I apologise if I appear unrelieved, this temple has taken its tole on me.''

''Will you be alright?'' Svedi asked

''In time, I believe I will. I have made a crude shrine to Mara at the temple entrance. It is there where I will be content to spend the rest of my days.''

''Don't you think you've repaid the debt you owed? You saved the people of Dawsntar.'' Svedi said.

Eraundur chuckled softly ''My children, if anybody should be thanked it should be you two. Without you I wouldn't have been able to destroy the Skull.''

It was dawn by the time the trio emerged from the temple, bleary eyed and pining for a bed to fall into.

''We are the saviours of Dawnstar, and nobody has any idea.'' Svedi grumbled

''Even if we told them I doubt anyone would believe us, anyway.''

''Hey, did you open what Eraundur gave you?''

''Not yet.''

''Open it.''

Before they had departed Erandur had passed a folded bundle to Adair and told him to open it when they were out of the temple. Pulling the bundle from his pack he quickly unwrapped to package, the breath caught in his throat when the package was fully unwrapped.

It was a necklace made of glistening bronze and teal beads. It glittered beautifully in the light on the rising sun.

An Amulet of Mara.

_Maybe I should have killed him after all..._

* * *

><p>Erandur ships this.<p>

Longest chapter EVAR! :D

I'm super pumped for the next chapter!


	42. The Cave

Sorry for the late chapter! I started watching Game of Thrones and got a bit into it...

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push_

The Cave

* * *

><p>But I only needed one more touch<br>Another taste of heavenly rush  
>And I believe; I believe it so...<br>And I only needed one more touch  
>Another taste of devouring rush<br>And I believe, I believe it so...

Whose side am I on; whose side am I?  
>Whose side am I on; whose side am I?<p>

I was looking for a breath of life;  
>A little touch of heavenly light<br>But all the choirs in my head sang "no"  
>(I believe it)<br>To get a dream of life again  
>A little vision of the start and the end<br>But all the choirs in my head sang "no".

_Breath of Life - Florence and the Machine_

* * *

><p><em>The sky above is a smouldering crimson, black wings beat the air, corrupted red eyes stare her down. She can't move. Frozen, terrified. <em>

_''You fear me, Dovahkiin.'' Alduin rumbles, Lianna's body trembles. It is not a question, but a statement. ''You are right to faas, fear. You are weak like a kiir, child.'' _

_''I am not weak.'' Her voice struggles forth, through her fear tightened throat. She knows she is not weak; she has taken down many of his followers and has lived to tell the tale. But before the son of Akatosh she feels as weak as a babe fresh from his mother's womb. _

_A soft growl curls from Alduin's throat, she thinks it sounds like laughter. Mocking and condescending. ''You think yourself mul, strong? Mul enough to defeat me? How can you call yourself mul while you are horvutah, trapped and controlled by mortal muz, men?''  
><em>

_''I am controlled by no man.'' _

_''You may think so, Dovahkiin. But you are wrong.'' _

_The ground beneath her feet starts to shift and change. Trees sprout from the earth, in the distance a city forms on the top of a rise. Whiterun. The stench of blood is suffocating, makes her cough and her eyes water. Banners snap and roll in the wind, the rippling fabric is the only sound in the deathly silence. The ground beneath her feet is stained red, blood. Bodies, hundreds, cover the ground around her, as far as her eyes can see. They wear the armour of the Empire and the Stormcloak rebellion. Her gut twists. _

_''What happened?'' She whispers, more to herself than the dragon God. _

_''You, Dovahkiin.'' _

_''What are talking about?! I have taken no part on the battlefield.'' _

_''You are wrong again, Dovahkiin. You may have taken no part in the grah, battle. But these dead are your doing. Did you think you would have no affect on this war?'' _

_''I thought- No this- I...'' The Dragonborn stammered, her eyes growing damp. _

_''Denial is used by the weak to shroud and forget their folaas. Wrongs.'' _

_''I am not in denial!'' _

_''Then what then? You nok, lie to those around you, while knowing that you are playing a part in their demise?''  
><em>

_''No I-''  
><em>

_''Would you lie in his arms, while you help to sweep the hahkun, axe through his neck?''_

_''NO.'' She shouts, her vision clouded and murky with tears._

_The fields of Whiterun shift, forming into the tall foreboding walls of the Palace of the Kings. The rich blue rug is stitched and ravelled beneath her feet. The throne of Ysgramor is pulled from the darkness of the stone. A figure is slumped against the floor, she steps forward. Fear begins to squeeze her heart. The figure is wearing a silver-grey fur cloak; it's wet with blood and dirt. Her heart races, she shakes furiously. The man raises his bowed head, her breath catches. Her legs threaten to give way beneath her. His blond hair normally so well groomed is matted and encrusted with blood; his face is pale and worn. His eyes meet hers; they are filled with betrayal and sadness, her heart breaks, tears spill down her cheeks. _

_''...Why?'' He rasps through dry lips. _

_She tries to answer him but stops suddenly; the telltale flicker of a sword catches her eye. Looking up, her heart all but stops. A woman is stood over Ulfric a ruddy, bloody sword in hand. She is dressed in Imperial armour; there is a mad smile on her lips. Her eyes are not human; they glisten with mad gold, the pupils but tiny slits. The woman is herself. _

_''Call it what you may, Dovahkiin. But you will still drive a blade through his back and his heart.'' _

_The woman -herself, raises the sword. _

_''_NO!_'' _

_The sword plunges, his silver cloak swallows the length of silver. Blood drips, a heart trembles slowly sinking into stillness. _

_She is no longer stood beside him; confusion holds her for a second. Before reality cracks between her eyes. _

_She is holding a sword. _

_She is holding_ the_ sword. _

_His eyes meet hers, they are searching, demanding, questioning. Pleading, begging, reasoning. _

_She and the woman that is herself, raise the sword and rip through his jugular.  
><em>

Lianna awoke with a scream. The previously softly glowing fire burning calmly in the grate, roared into life. The flame flickered and wavered matching her breaths. Her body shuddered and jolted as breath passed sharply through her throat. Her skin was clammy, uncomfortably damp. ''Just a dream.'' She told herself, sweeping a hand through her long tangled hair. ''Just a dream.'' She realised her eyes were wet and quickly wiped at them with angry fists. ''Just a dream.'' She repeated to herself desperately.

...

Lianna followed Ulfric curious as to where he was taking her. Rather than leading them down to the Catacombs for training he had instead led her down a part of the palace she had never been down before. At first she had thought he was going to teach her more of the thu'um but this was proven wrong when they had crossed the main hall without some much of a glance towards the great doors. Now she was left trying to determine their destination, Ulfric had so far divulged nothing to her. Now that she thought about it he had barley said two consecutive words to her this morning. She supposed his silence had something to do with the war, she had heard there had been some kind of trouble in Whiterun. A shudder coursed through her, as a flicker of the previous night's dream shot through her. She decided she would not dwell on the subject any longer.

''Do you know of the Feast of the Dead?'' She jumped slightly at the suddenness of his question. Her first instinct was to shake her head, as she did not have any idea what the Feast of the Dead was. Then she remembered that she was behind him and he had likely no seen the movement so she replied in the negative. ''It is a festival celebrated in Windhelm, every year on the thirteenth of Sun's Dawn. During which the five hundred Companions of Ysgramor are recited.''

Lianna inwardly groaned, if her past experiences at Lord's parties were anything to go by she had a feeling she wasn't going to enjoy herself. She could speak words that sent men flying, command magic that could burn anything to cinders and her swordsmanship was coming along nicely. But the skill of small talk had always evaded her, try and get her to talk to a nobleman about local politics and she was a useless as a gutted fish would be instead of a sword. She had no patience for posturing nobles and their drawling bullshit. She had a feeling the festival would be more about brushing shoulders with the right political contacts and licking Ulfric's boots then remembering the ancient Companions of Ysgramor. Needless to say she wasn't brimming with excitement for the festival.

''But that's several days from now, what are we exactly doing, Ulfric?''

''During the festival a great feast is held. We, Lianna, are going hunting.''

''Hunting?''

''It is tradition that the Jarl takes to the hunt for the feast. It is a great honour to join the Jarl while he hunts.'' Lianna snorted, Ulfric turned back to her brow raised.

''I've been hunting before, and I have been in your company before. I'm sure putting to two together won't change much, so you must forgive me if I do not appear... honoured enough.'' She deadpanned. He gave a small shake of his head, a smirk twitching at his lips. If such impertinence came from anybody else they would be reprimanded most severely, but with her it was...amusing and almost refreshing at her complete disregard for his rank. He had a feeling that she had treated him such from the beginning to irk him, and in the beginning it had, indeed annoyed him. But now...it had quite the reverse effect.

Ulfric continued to lead them down into the bowels of the palace, after a short while Lianna could hear the baying of dogs in the distance. Eventually they came to a door where the howling and barking seemed to be coming from. As Ulfric pulled the door open the heavy warm smell of dog and roasting meat filled Lianna's nose as they stepped into the kennels. The barking of the hounds became feverish at their entrance, a Nord rose from his spot beside the hearth to great Ulfric. The salty smell of roasting meat was made evident of its source, a skewer of meat was led along the top of fire, the Nord's late breakfast it appeared. While the two men talked Lianna busied herself by approaching the large pen where the hounds were held.

Wet noses pressed themselves into her offered open hand, tails wagged furiously. The hounds were thick and stout with thick fur every shade between white and black, their muzzles were long and smiling with pointed teeth. She had come across dogs before in Skyrim but they had been war hounds, towering shaggy beasts. These were evidently not war hounds, they appeared more feral, more wolf-like than any dog. Had she not been met with wagging tails and kind tongues she would have outright called them so, maybe a bitch dog long ago had escaped when in heat and had delivered mongrel pups. That had the cunning and wit of a wolf but the stupidly soft kind eyes and tongues of hounds. And these were the descendents of that possibility.

Above the howling dogs Lianna could hear snippets of the two men's conversation, she heard her name , or rather her title, repeated a few times between them. When she had looked back, curious, the Nord would giving her a strange look, as if she had an extra head growing beside the first. Uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassed under than man's gaze she turned her attention back to the dogs and their soft fur. When she looked up again a moment later she found that Ulfric was gone and that the Nord remained. He approached the pen and like herself began to fuss over the dogs.

''The Jarl's got important business to attend to, he'll join us later.''

Lianna was determined not to look at the man, still remembering his strange gaze. The man must have noticed her act as he quickly began to talk again.''Names Ranulfr. Pardon my staring earlier, it is uncommon for the Jarl to bring anyone other than General Galmar with him when he hunts.''_And with Galmar away in the field that leaves me to accompany him. I'm second best...gee Ulfric you sure know how to make a girl feel special. _Lianna thought. ''I'm simply surprised that someone like you to accompanying the Jarl, it is uncommon. You must be honoured.''

''Yes, I must be.'' Lianna said dryly. Her brow pinched as she fully registered his words. ''Wait, what do you mean someone like me?''

''Why, a woman of course.''

...

Hunting was a quiet affair, which left Lianna to mostly be entertained by her own thoughts. Ulfric led to way through the wilderness of Eastmarch, a handsome bow strapped to his back, with one of the hounds at his heels. The Breton was a few paces behind wrapped in thick furs, two dogs trotted behind her heels tails wagging lazily and tongues sloshing from slacked jaws. And a little way behind her was Ranulfr riding a sturdy pony, the two stags that they had slew jumping limply against the horses back.

She thought of Ulfric and the words that Ranulfr had shared with her back in the kennel. She was curious, if it was true that Ulfric didn't often -if at all- entertain the platonic company of women, then what did he expect from her? Was he the type of man whose only contact with the opposite sex was in the bedroom, and otherwise had nothing to do with them, to busy with his war and possible Kingship? She had a feeling she was closer to the truth then he would ever say, her ears took on a red hue, so what was she to him? If she was just another notch in a bedpost he would have surely made his intentions evident rather early on, but equally she knew was not filling a seat in his council either. Puzzled she decided that sooner rather than later she would need to ask him of his exact intentions in this...whatever it was. She may have been puzzled by the man and how he exactly felt towards her, but she was very clear on how she felt about him.

In the beginning she had been infatuated with him, she had considered it simple infatuation, it was to be short lived, he was a man who struck an individual with awe and respect, it was to be expected. The only problem was her feelings hadn't been short lived, terrifyingly they had only deepened and strengthen as she had spent more time in his company. It kept her awake at night knowing that the man who could conjure such rage and hatred within her was also the man she was falling for. The very man she was supposed to bring down had snared her heart in his tight grip, the cruel irony of it all almost made her laugh. Almost.

The howling wind ripped the woman from her thoughts, she shuddered beneath her thick furs. The wind was unusual cold and strong for Sun's Dawn, even in Eastmarch. Her breath clouded in front of her lips, snow caught in her hair and lashes it would melt leaving her face damp, the wind would catch her moist skin and cut against it with throbbing chills. Ulfric and Ranulfr seemed completely oblivious to the cold, much to her chagrin.

Soon they came to a steep rocky incline over the ridge, Ulfric told her, was a large plateau where deer frequented. Ranulfr unable to accompany them, as the pony was unable to climb the incline, waited at the bottom of the ridge with all but one of the dogs. Ulfric and Lianna continued on, Ulfric had indeed been correct, after a little while they came to a large open plateau. The dog led them along the tree line, skirting around the open ground and to a large group of deer. The herd was mostly comprised of hinds, their bellies heavy with fawns which would soon drop in the later spring. A few stags postured through the herd, their long elegant horns proudly strong in the winter wind. Lianna crouched behind the wide trunk of a fir tree, deciding which stag to target, she would take down a hind - not with their bellies full of their unborn. Ulfric was positioned behind a fir nearby watching her with a strange glint in his eyes, he been the gentlemen and had allowed her to have first kill, he had taken the second and she was now to take the third.

Her target selected Lianna manipulated a small pocket of snow at her feet to rise into the air, the ice shifted into a deadly clear shard. She breathed slowly as she aimed, there came a sharp whistle and a soft thud followed by the sound of a heavy weight dropping to the ground. The herd scattered, the thunderous tramping of hooves rang in the man and woman's ears. Once the snow had settled they rose from their hiding places and approached the kill. The ice shard had found its mark in the stag's throat. The dog snuffled and whined at the stag's hot blood, but it dared not to follow its instinct. Ulfric slung the stag over his shoulder and without so much as a word he started back down toward the steep incline where Ranulfr would be waiting for them.

...

_Note to self: Blizzards are fucking cold, and you can't see a damn thing. Avoid at all possible costs. _Lianna thought to herself as the wind howled around her, eyes closed against the dagger sharp snow. The blizzard had come on them as quick as an assassin, as they often did in Windhelm. And now she was completely turned around, she had also lost the dog and Ulfric in the storm. And now she was going to die. _What a valiant death, fitting for a fledgling Dragonborn. At least Tsun will get a laugh out of it. _She thought grimly. She pulled her furs around her tighter; the tree she was sat against was a poor buffer for any of the chill. _Best hunting trip ever. _

She was unsure of how much time passed; the ice must have gotten to her head as she felt terribly weak. Quite suddenly above the roar of the wind Lianna heard a familiar voice, her heart pounded in her chest. But too weak to shout into the wind, she sat hoping that somehow Ulfric would find her. What felt like a lifetime passed before from the storm walked a tall thick figure. There came a rush of scrabbling paws as a the dig lolloped towards her, she felt his hot foul breath on her face but did not care as his long wet tongue caressed her cheek. The dog whimpered pressing his nose into her hand; Lianna wanted to press her hands into his warm fur but for the life of her could not move her fingers. She heard the crunch of snow as Ulfric approached, he loomed over her.

''Get up.'' She heard his low voice say.

''I can't.'' She replied weakly.

''Why not.'' He almost sounded angry, frustrated by her incompetence.

''I can't feel my feet.'' She replied stupidly. She could almost hear him roll his eyes.

She felt strong arms encircle her, lifting her from the cold ground. She pressed herself into him, for his warmth she told herself. Not because he smelt of pine trees and fire smoke. Not because she was stupid enough to fall in love with him. And not because some part of her that lacked any kind of morality hoped that he held her so tightly because maybe, just maybe, he felt the same as she did.

She must have lost herself in his smell and warmth more than she realised for they were suddenly outside what appeared to be a cave. The dog trotted in and Ulfric waited in the freezing wind until the dig appeared again at the entrance unharmed, tail wagging. Ulfric followed after the dog, the cave wasn't particularly deep and the ceiling was rather low. But it would do until the storm passed. He gently lowered the Dragonborn to the floor against the cave wall. She was suddenly aware of his hands on hers, her heart raced as he gently turned her hands over, inspecting them. It was only then that she realised her fingers had begun to turn blue.

''You do not bear the cold well.'' He said, there was a kind almost caring note to his voice.

''Unlike some I don't have the fortune of being born with ice in my veins.'' He chuckled softly, her heart palpitated at the husky sound.

He squeezed the tip of her blue index finger, there was a sharp pinch of pain she flinched. ''What are you doing?'' She asked in little more than a whisper, again she flinched as he squeezed her middle finger. ''Testing how severe the chill is in your fingers. If there is pain, you won't lose that finger.'' He then continued to squeeze each digit in turn; by the time he was done her eyes had begun to water. ''You're lucky; you won't lose any of your fingers.'' His fingers lingered on hers for a moment before he moved away to sit opposite her, a strange look in his eye.

She looked down at her fingers and tried to bend them, they obeyed albeit only slightly. She looked up at him, he had that strange look in his eyes and a ghost of a smile was playing on his lips. ''Thank you.''

The wind howled loudly outside. Lianna looked out into the storm, her brow pinched in worry. ''Do you think Ranulfr will be ok?''

''The man knows this land even better than I do, he'll be fine.'' She nodded, but the pinched brow of worry didn't relax. A shiver rippled through the woman. ''Light a fire.''

She raised a brow at him ''I thought Nords had a distrust of magic.''

''I trust magic when it is used by competent and trustworthy hands.'' He replied. _Trustworthy..._ A dagger twisted in her heart.

She summoned a fire in the space between them, the flicker heat hovered in the air feeding off nothing but her energy. The golden glow cast by the fire illuminated the small cave. She noted that the Nord did not look uncomfortable; rather there was a look of awe and respect of her abilities.

Lianna beckoned the dog over with soft words, the dog trotted over and sat beside her, resting his head on her knee. She scratched behind his ear and he grumbled happily.

''Do you know how long the blizzard will last?'' Lianna asked.

''Hours. We're in for a long and cold night.'' A strange look crossed the woman's face. ''What is it?''

''The fire'll go out when I fall asleep.''

A long heavy pause followed. Lianna's face grew redder and redder.

...

_Faad_. Was the first thing Lianna thought as she awoke, she was deliciously warm. It was the first time since coming to Skyrim that she felt truly and blissfully warm. Slowly she surfaced from that fuzzy cloudy wonderful place between sleep and consciousness. The sight that met her eyes choked the breath from her lungs. She was pressed into Ulfric Stormcloak's chest. Not only that, but her head was nestled beneath his chin and her hands were curled into fists in his fine shirt. Her first instinct was to pull away but she found she couldn't. His arms were tightly wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him. Mercifully Ulfric was still fully asleep, his deep slow breaths calmed her panicking mind slightly. The original arrangement was to sleep back to back so neither froze to death in their sleep, so how in the name of all the nine had they ended up so entangled in each other?! Her first thought was that maybe Ulfric had pulled her against him while he had been half asleep, not in his right mind. But then she was not innocent in this either, it was her hands that had held his shirt, it was she who had curled herself so tightly against him. So maybe it had been she who had pressed herself up against him.

Her heart raced in her chest threatening to explode from her ribs, any moment now Ulfric would awaken, and then... Oh Gods! What then? Maybe she could feign sleep when he awoke, after all it was his arms that encircled her. He would let her go and then would be no need for an awkward awakening trapped in each other's embrace. Her plan decided Lianna made a great effort to remain as still as possible so not to wake him. At least this way she could stay in his warm embrace for just a bit longer, she felt safe and comfortable in his arms. Never had she felt so...secure than his arms now. While here in this moment no matter how wrong and selfish it was, she truly understood the meaning of happiness.

She wasn't sure what exactly compelled her to, but at that moment she happened to look up at his face, to find his eyes staring back down into her's. She did not feign sleep, she did not close her eyes, she just stared back unable to move. Red heat plumed across her face. They were so close, their noses nearly touched, they shared one breathe. She was so close to him she could see that his eyes were not simply blue, but many different shades of blue, there were even flecks of green near to his iris. And in those handsome eyes swirled a thousand different emotions each moving to quickly to name. She was close enough to count the individual pale hairs on his jaw. If she was to lean forward just a fraction she would feel his beard against her cheek. And if she was to then tilt her head just so their lips would...

She was suddenly heard the tramping of horses hooves and the baying of hounds. How had she not heard such a cacophony earlier? It appeared that even a dragon could have landed outside and she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Ulfric must have realised the sound also, as his eyes were trained on the opening of the cave. The dog rose and padded to the opening of the cave, tail wagging and barked into the dawn, several loud near barks replied. Their breath froze, their blood chilled. If they were to found in such an embrace people would assume... Her face grew hotter. She could hear Ranulfr calling their names, he was getting closer. She heard Ulfric swear under his breath, and suddenly his warmth was gone. His arms were no more wrapped around her; she could no longer smell his scent. She was alone on the floor, she was not going to lie;his quickness to get away wounded her heart. Rolling to a seating position she saw Ulfric stood at the entrance of the cave. His broad tall form looked dark and imposing. The tenderness that he had shown was gone. _It is for the best_ she told herself _better he believes this was a mistake. It will be easier that way when the end of this war comes. It is better that he does not love me. If a heart is too bleed at the end of this I hope it is mine, and mine alone. _  
>Pulling herself to her feet she stepped out of the cave and into the dawn light.<p>

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><p>Thoughts? Moving too fast? Review...maybe? Please?<p>

The next chapter should be up this weekend. And it's going to be a Feast of the Dead to remember...


	43. Two Lovers Locked Out Of Love

So I counted and this is the third chapter in a row that's late... Dear Lord. *Head desks* That's just deplorable. I've really got to get my procrastination in check...Tomorrow. But seriously, all jokes aside I do have a serious problem with procrastination that I've got to work on that...

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Two Lovers Locked Out Of Love

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><p>Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams<br>Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams  
>I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind<br>Alone in the wind and the rain you left me  
>It's getting dark darling, too dark to see<p>

__Thistle and Weeds-Mumford & Sons__

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><p>If I was not myself<br>And you were someone else  
>I'd say so much to you<br>And I would tell the truth

_Dead in the Water - Ellie Goulding_

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><p>She had poisoned, bewitched, invaded and consumed him. In the short twenty four hours since they had returned from their hunting trip she had not once left his thoughts. Even now he could remember every soft swell and warm curve of her pressed against him, the way her pale eyes had glittered and shone in the weak dawn light. Later when he had taken council with his generals he could feel her breath soft on his cheek. When he had sat on his throne listening to his people's qualms her heartbeat hammered against his ribs, her scent fogged him mind. When he had taken to the streets to clear his mind of her, her laugh seemed to be on the wind. And when he had retired to his quarters for the night, in the loneliness of his own bed, his thoughts of her became...less innocent. In his dream the most scandalous bashful red painted her face while she had stood there naked and bare, dragons roaring above their heads, a sly grin on her lips.<p>

He had awoken in the gloom of early morning, eyes shut tight. Trying to exorcise her naked form that bewitched him. He began to pace frantically, her fingers still ghosting his skin, her eyes shining with such boldness, her lips against his, her moans...

Where had the voice gone? Where was the voice who had bayed him no? When had the Gods governed this not sin, not dangerous? When had this become... Permitted? His pacing became furious, brow knitted into a terrified frown. He was to be the High King he could not be affected by a girl in such a way, _no woman_. He corrected himself, he would not have such dreams of a girl, and besides a girl would not look like...

Ulfric quickly shook his head, attempting to forget where that thought would take him. He could not think of her in such a way, she would likely be revolted if she knew of his...desires. He had about two decades on her, no she would be disgusted to discover the truth, she would consider him a vile lecherous old man. No he needed to shake this, wash her from him. He had brushed off such primeval carnal desires before and he could do it again. But he needed time, away from her. Away from the temptation she represented. He didn't know if he would be able to control himself in their training sessions, the thought of her skin shining with sweat, her hair a messy halo about her head, her ragged tired gasping breaths... In the seclusion of early morn's shroud it took all of his concentration to remain calm and... unaffected by such images._ Gods above! _he thought _If I can hardly control myself now, how will I be able to when it is just she and I? _There was no other option, he would not teach her the sword anymore, he would not speak to her, he would not see her. At least until his desires for her faded. A pang of pain shot through him as he resolved to distance himself from her. The pain was a forgotten one, one that he hadn't felt for many years, one that did not originate from his loins. But from something far deeper and more powerful.

_I do this for her sake. She deserves better than a man worn by war. She deserves a man who can give her happiness, a simple life. This is to pass, It is better this way. _

_This is to pass...  
><em>

...

For a Jarl, the rightful High King, a murderous bastard, a traitor, a freedom fighter. He had surprisingly ordinary handwriting. She didn't know what exactly she expected maybe something more...elegant. She had seen his signature on documents before, but never his own written hand. There was an almost boyish quality in the thickness of the letters, it was by no means heavy handed, simply strong and proud. _Much like the man himself. _It was a strange observation she knew but one that stuck with her, and she wasn't entirely sure why. As she turned the slip of paper in her hands she saw that he had pressed his quill onto the parchment with force. She wondered whether his quills were always subject to such treatment when put to paper, or whether it had taken him such great effort and such concentration to write this note to her that the inked words bled through to the reverse of the parchment. She hoped it was the latter.

She had awoken to find the parchment slid beneath her door, at first she had thought it had been something from Gaila she had been deeply revealed to find it was not from the strange woman. The small note read simply;

_Our training sessions are suspended until further notice._

_The war needs my full attention, I can not afford any type of distraction.  
><em>

_I'm sorry. _

_-U  
><em>

She didn't believe him for a second. There was indeed some trouble, there had been several breeches into Whiterun hold, but there had been a stalemate for the past two months. It hardly needed his full attention. And what was this about her being a _distraction_, was that all she was to him? Just something to take his mind of his damn war? Hurt and rage twisted and rolled inside of her, she knew he could not possibly feel that same way she did, but he must see her as some sort of companion as a...friend. All the time they had spent together...was it simply a distraction, did it mean nothing to him? There long gruelling training sessions, their long talks afterwards, the walks they would take at night. Did all of that simply mean nothing? Did she mean nothing to him? It was then that she realised that a tear had slide down her cheek, she quickly wiped it away. It was their...encounter in the cave that had pushed him away, had she maybe pulled away from him and not been stupid enough to lie in his arms like a lovesick fool. Then maybe he wouldn't be distancing himself from her. She sniffed angrily; maybe this was for the better. She was playing a very dangerous (and a very selfish) game, but she could still pull away from him, she still had a window of opportunity to turn away from...this. She could still save themselves from heartbreak. But with every passing day that window of opportunity grew smaller and smaller. And with every passing day she was less sure whether she could walk away from him.

...

She was angry at him for obviously ignoring her, she was angry at herself for pushing him away. She was sad because he was ignoring her, she was sad because it hurt some much. She was frustrated because she knew she shouldn't feel sad or angry about the whole situation, which only made her sadder, angrier and more frustrated. She hated him; he could be so impossibly infuriating, he could be so offhandedly cruel and cold. He was conceited and his ego was the size of a mammoth. And not to mention his xenophobia. But at the same time she loved him; he was so passionate about everything he did, the warmth and the kindness that she secretly hoped he showed only to her. She loved it when he laughed, truly laughed, and he became a younger happier man than the world knew. She loved it when his eyes had glinted with pride the first time she managed to disarm him. She loved the way he had held her so tightly in the cave. At times of such frustration she felt the compulsion to burn something or hit something. And since the former would course more of a commotion, she chose the latter.

Luckily for her Windhelm was full of soldiers in training looking for a sparring partner, they were not as patient as Ulfric and they were far rougher in their training matches. But they were the perfect target for her frustrations.

Her opponent was a Nord wielding a steel battleaxe, Lianna steadied the sword in her hand, the steel weapon might have weighted the same as the wooden one she was so used to, but it gripped differently and its centre of balance was different from what she had grown used to. Their weapons were dulled so that no fatal damage could be dealt to either of them.

Lianna sped forward across the courtyard, she idly remembered Ulfric telling her to always let her opponent take the first move, but where was the fun in that? The clashing notes of steel rung in the yard, Lianna's strikes were quick and furious, trying to catch the man off guard. Her whirling swings and twisting slashes were countered by the long wooden arm of his battleaxe, he expertly twisted it to block against her swings, and then turned and pivoted the bulky weapon in his hands with ease to try and strike her. They continued this deadly spinning twisting dance, their clashing steel their fatal instruments. Her swipes swung ever closer to splitting his skin, and his crushing blows so dizzyingly close to her skull. But his blows were avoided by her nimble agile twisting body, which was so foreign to him, her viper quick swings never stunned or staggered his constant strong resolve.

She again swung her sword for him, a deadly blurred line of singing whistling silver. Rather than connecting with the wooden length of his axe, the Nord raised the curved steel head of the weapon. The interception rang with a clang; suddenly the Nord pivoted swinging forward the wooden pommel into the woman's face. The force sent Lianna spinning and rolling to the floor, her sword tumbled from her grip as her dazed form skittered across the cold stone.

She was conscious that she was stationary on the ground, and that her mouth was full of a thick metallic substance, ah blood. She heard the grating of steel on stone, she could only guess, but it sounded like he had kicked her sword away. Damn it. She opened her eyes, seeing spots she blinked hard. Her vision cleared slowly, became less murky, more defined. She slowly pushed herself to her feet, painfully slowly. Though the outline of it was somewhat fuzzy to her, she could defiantly see her sword on the stone quite a way across the courtyard, the Nord and his axe between them.

''Give up, little Breton. If this was a real fight you'd be dead by now.''

Lianna spat the blood from her mouth, the crimson clashing with the purity of the snow and the somber stone. She then wiped the spittle and claret from her mouth with her fist. ''If this was a real you wouldn't have lasted this long.'' She replied.

The Nord's brow lowered ''So be it, little Breton.''

And suddenly the air between them was severed as his axe cleaved at her soft flesh. The woman, quicker now with no sword to weigh her down, volted backwards, the axe arced with no purchase other than the air frosted with snow. Their deadly dance begun again, noticeably far more once sided, his long reaching arcs were easily avoided by her ducking leaping lithe form. She could avoid him all she wanted but without a sword she would have no way of winning the fight, if she kept this up he'd just have to wait until she tired out. Her breaths were becoming shallower and quicker, she would need to get her sword by any means possible, and fast. As she twirled and span avoiding the man's swings, she thought of what she could possibly do. She could try and run around him, after all she could easily out run him but, with his long reaching axe she wouldn't be getting anywhere. There was definitely no way she go under him, which only left...going over the six foot plus Nord.

As crazy as the idea sounded, and it was very crazy, it wouldn't be impossible. Throughout their fight she had made note of his stance, the placement of his weapons, where he gripped said weapon, the way his fingers twitched just before he swung, the way his eyes always narrowed as he raised to block. Crucially she had noticed that he positioned his axe across his body when he stood ready to attack or defend, she could use that to get herself up and over the man and to her sword. But the time frame to do it was tight; she would need to move fast.

She volted back, leaving enough space between them so that she could gather speed but not enough for him to react. _This better work._ She drew a slow breath before exhaling slowly. She flew forward, she wasn't even sure if her feet touched the stone beneath her, as her boots pounding furiously against them. She saw the man's face twist with surprise, as she sprinted towards him. And suddenly she was leaping off the pommel of the axe; the rush of cold air made her eyes water as she fell through the air. She rolled as she landed; bouncing to her feet she turned to see the Nord's stunned expression. A whoop left her lips as she sped towards her sword, the Nord fast on her heels.

...

The normally cold and dark palace was transformed. The normally quiet throne room was now heaving with nobles dressed in all their finery, the low rumble of calm conversation with the sound of a softly plucked lute filled the place. Candles twinkled and sparkled chasing away the normal sombre atmosphere of the main hall. He hated these farces, if he had his way the whole affair would be louder, rowdier and far more entertaining. There would be war songs and great battles told, and there would be more mead. A lot more mead. But instead of a true celebration for the warrior hero the feast had turned into a night where noblemen fat with coin and their greed, licked boots and rubbed shoulders. It was a sad time he lived in, a time where the chance of coin was put above the celebration of their heroes. He downed the tankard of mead in one, knowing he could not put it off any longer Ulfric rose from his throne and began to entertain his guests.

He had missed her in their separation. No, not simply missed. He had longed for, hungered for her, pined for her. His feelings for her had not waned, not even in the slightest. Many times he had nearly broken his resolve and gone to seek her out, if not only to hear her voice again. It was worse a night, at least during the day he had distractions to keep his mind from her, the solace of night brought no such evasions of her. Her heartbeat would flutter against his ribs, like the soft wings of a bird. She was so soft and warm against him, her eyes burned with such devilish desires. She would lean forward to press her lips to his throat, but always _always _before her lips would touch his skin she would dissipate, pluming foggy smoke. And then he would awake, alone, cold and missing every part about her. Her smell, her wicked smile, her long wild untamable hair. He even missed their violent arguments, her eyes flashing with such wild fury.

A flicker of soft copper passed before his eyes. He had pulled away from the throng of nobles to instead stand on the edge of the hall happy to be away the obnoxious nobles; it had been then, while deep in thought, that the woman flittered gracefully in front of him. He cleared his throat; it had the desired effect, the woman turned around to face him. Ulfric stared, spellbound, mouth agape. It was Lianna.

Her eyes were softly dusted with gold, making her dazzlingly silver eyes stand out. Her skin no longer smelt of the earth and sweat, but of perfume and soap. Her dark hair was brushed to point that it caught the soft candle light, her hair was elegantly gathered above her shoulders, Dragon's tongue flowers had been threaded in her locks just past her left temple. Swinging teardrops of gold hung from her ear, they too caught too light of the candles. The dress left her shoulders bare, the straight neckline allowed just the hint of cleavage to show. The dress was tight on her chest and hips, revealing (at last) her figure to him. This proud feminine ladylike being was foreign to him, he was so used to her dressed in her robes, so used to her skin being gritty and darkened with dirt, so used to a wild look of mischief in her eyes, she left him stunned. Only the slim scar that curled over her collar bone could give any possible hint to her ability in the field.

She was _so_ beautiful.

Suddenly that powerful unnamed emotion flooded him. He knew it not to be lust, but was it then?

Her expression became suddenly soured as her eyes met his. Her head inclined the smallest fraction. The gold hanging from her ears swayed at the slight motion.

''Jarl.'' Her voice was curt. She made to go but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. She whirled around to him, such rage and sadness in her eyes. His gut twisted with guilt, he had done this. He pulled her by her wrist to him, to the point where he was invading her personal space.

''Why do you address me as if I am a stranger, when I am anything but?'' He asked his voice low, so close were they, their chests nearly touched.

''If I am to be treated as such, then I am to respond as such.'' She replied coldly. He was so close to her he could see there was the smallest peak at the top of her ear, her mixed blood evident in her details. ''Let me go, Ulfric.'' She growled. His grip didn't lessen, if anything he pulled her closer. ''I'd hate to distract from your evening, you can't afford the time after all.''

''You are no distraction.''

''Then what am I?'' She breathed; there was a slight tremble to her voice. It was then that he realised that her eyes were becoming glassy with tears.

Suddenly he turned and pulled her to one of the doors that lead off into the palace. His hand found her's rather than her wrist, as he soundlessly pulled open the door and pulled her inside. Here they would not be disturbed.

The lone light of a torch flickered and jumped, her eyes shimmered so beautiful, heavy with tears and catching the flames light.

''Why have you been avoiding me?'' She asked. ''I don't understand. One minute we're friends and then next... It's like I don't even exist anymore. I don't understand, what happened between us?''

How could he possibly answer? He could not tell her that she was all he thought of, he could not tell her that she invaded his dreams. He could not answer, so he did not. At his silence a single tear broke from her eye and slid down her cheek. ''It's because of what happened in the cave isn't it?'' She breathed.

''Aye.'' He whispered. At his confirmation fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. ''Why do you weep?'' He asked softly.

''Because I am a fool.''

''You are not a fool.''

''But I am.'' She whispered softly. ''If I had but pulled away, if I had not been in your arms. Then maybe you wouldn't be avoiding. You wouldn't hate me.'' She sobbed softly. Ulfric's eyes widened at her answer.

''You think I _hate_ you?''

Her eyes would not meet his, she looked to ground. Such guilt and self hatred hit him; of course she would jump to such a conclusion after he suddenly abandoned her. He had treated her terribly; he had not considered how much pain the separation would cause _her. _''Look at me.'' He said, she did not raise her head and continued to weep softly. He took her jaw between his thumbs and fingers and raised it so she had no choice but to look at him. She closed her eyes in defiance. ''Lianna, look at me.'' She did not open her eyes, and still she wept. Her warm tears dripped down onto his fingertips. ''Look at me,'' he whispered ''Delphinia...''

Slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes opened. Their eyes met, a strange powerful emotion swirled in hers. ''I could never hate you.'' He said softly, his thumb tenderly caught a few of her tears.

''Never?'' There was such a young innocent tone to her voice.

''Never.'' Their eyes locked staring down into each others souls. A myriad of emotions swirled and rolled there. ''I care for you very deeply. Never doubt that.'' Realising that he might have over stepped some kind of physical boundary, his hand uncurled from her jaw.

''Then why did y-''

''Because _I _am a fool and I acted so. I was scared...''

''Of what?''

''You. I was scared that what happened between us in the cave would change what we have. But I was selfish and did not consider how this would affect you. I never thought how much...pain this would cause you.''

''It changes nothing between us. Nothing.'' He felt a strange stabbing sensation at her words. '''We're still friends after all. Right?'' She sniffed as she wiped the tears away with the copper sleeve of her dress. Maybe not so ladylike after all.

He chuckled softly ''Of course.'' Friendship was the furthest thing from his mind, he did not simply wish to be friends with her. Not when she smelt like that, not when she looked like that, not when she felt like that. She beamed up at him, his heart melted. Soft glittered gold dust was smeared across her cheeks, her tears having taken the gleaming dust with them. ''We should get back, otherwise they'll notice we're gone and come looking for us.'' They had been gone for quite some time, if they were to be found corrupting gossip would quickly spread.

He watched as she slipped through the door back into the feast, silently like a ghost. The door closed softly, Ulfric let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, he staggered back against the wall. His eyes were shut tight. His breath was sharp and short. He was trembling. _Gods, what am I becoming?_

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><p>So...what do we think? Too much? Review please :)<em><br>_

I just checked on the stats thingy and it says that this fic has over 50K views. How is that possible?! **50 thousand** people have looked at this fic! ASDFGHJKLS3EFGNWSR0F *Head explodes* That is just...amazing. Mind blowing. Words fail me...

Thank you. :)


	44. The Huntsmen and the Lamb

I know it's a late, but my internet decided to pack up and die so I couldn't even continue writing. And also I'm up to my eyeballs in coursework at the moment and there's apply to uni which certainly hasn't helped... In fact I'm writing this so I don't have do my coursework. Yes, I'm not only a procrastinator on the internet but in my real life as well... Ugh what is my life?

Oh and I've aged Grimvar Cruel-Sea so now he's about Li's age, rather than being like 10.

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

The Huntsmen and the Lamb

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><p>A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night<br>May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright

The fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress  
>Until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest<br>The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
>I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground<p>

_Howl - Florence and The Machine_

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><p>Throughout the feast Ulfric found his eyes falling upon her. At his position from the head of the table he could see her sat beside a young Nord nobleman, they were talking animatedly, they were enjoying themselves. He could not hear what they spoke of above the low rumbling conversations and the constant recital of Ysgramor's companions, but they were smiling, laughing. An intense feeling of rage twisted in his veins, his fingers curled tighter around the arm rests, his dulled nails digging into the wood to the point of pain. Jealousy; a truly corruptible emotion, it made fools of men and twisted their hearts. He had no claim to her, none. He had no right to her. She was not his, and she never would be. The truth only made his mood fouler, he took a long drink from his goblet, they were <em>friends <em>and nothing more. So why did such rage and jealousy twist in him at her enjoyment of another man's company? He had no right to feel so possessive, she had not spent a night in his bed, she had not looked upon him with love or dark desires, no words of tenderness for him had passed her lips. But still the primeval desire idea of 'mine and nobody else's' burned in him.

Grimvar was the boy's name; he was the oldest of Torsten's brood, a Cruel-Sea. Sailors turned farmers, many had scoffed at Torsten's desire of the land rather than the sea. But the mocking hadn't lasted long, not soon after buying many of the plots of land around the city they became one of the richest clans in Eastmarch. The ancient clans and families had not taken kindly to the new nobility, but respectable or not the Cruel-Seas had coin, and a lot of it. And with wealth came influence and with influence came power. Naturally other clans and families wished for more power and more coin, partnerships had been offered and several daughter's hands also offered to the oldest Cruel-Sea son, from what the Jarl had heard the boy had refused every one of prospective wives. Unlike his sister who had been sold to the highest bidder a few months before, and now lived somewhere with her greedy husband.

Ulfric had never spoken to the boy before; he had never even seen the boy before. But Ulfric hated him, despite him. He hated the boy's innocent bumbling jolly doe eyed air, whether it was a manipulative act or not. He hated the way he would make her laugh. He hated the way she smiled at him. But most of all Ulfric hated how the boy's eyes would roll over the woman whenever she turned away from him. Innocent or no, he was still a man. Dark and sinful desires rolled hot in his eyes as his gaze ran down the slope of her neck to her breasts. His grip tightened on his goblet, his knuckles white. He looked at her, drooled over her with his lascivious eyes, as if she was a common whore. A soft growl curled from his throat, she might not desire him but she certainly did not deserve such a lecherous foul boy.

Ulfric took a long drink from his goblet, when after a single draft he found his goblet empty, he called for more. But who was he to damn the boy? His eyes too had rolled over her, _but I was never so obvious_. Ulfric thought. How could he call the boy lecherous and foul? Surely he was the fouler of the two? It was he that dreamed of her, he who imagined her lips on his, he who imagined her skin on his, he who imagined her moans in the darkness, he who would awoke aching for her. Not him. Ulfric ran his tongue over his teeth; they were both foul it seemed. _Damn us all. Damn the men for our eyes and dark desires, and damn the woman for their bewitching curves and tempting softness. _With his goblet full again, he drank deeply. Oblivion his eventual reckoning.

But unlike Grimvar he was close to her. He knew her and how she worked. He knew her favourite colour was blue because of the flowers that bloomed in spring back in High Rock. He knew she didn't like mead. He knew she loved the light snow fall before dawn. He knew that she still awoke from her nightmares screaming. He knew of her hopes and dreams, of her woes and happiness. Grimvar knew nothing of her.

They were friends as she had put it, though he doubted whether she would still call him that if she knew that she was a haunting spectre in his dreams. But he knew that his lust and desire for her was always secondary, Lianna and her happiness was paramount, not the succubus that he dreamed of that kissed his throat. As much as he wished she would hiss devilish nothings in his ear, he wished far more for her undivided attention and happiness.

He knew that her presence at the other end of the dinner table, her grin of excitement and pride when she had become fluid and competent with the sword, her stubborn eyes of steel whenever they disagreed (which was quite often), her sharp tongue, her energy, her fire. All these things brought him far more happiness and satisfaction than the ghost with her eyes that flashed with gold, with her whispering gossamer fingers, her velvet lips or her tongue of wine, ever could. He craved the woman and her innocent affection far more than the ghost's intoxicating kisses or euphoric touch.

She had cried because of him, her eyes had burnt with pain and confusion because of him, hot tears had spilt from her eyes because of him. Such had been his guilt and self loathing he had vowed that he would never make her cry again, and if he did so again then he hoped Talos would smite him down. Causing her such pain had affected him far more than if that spectre that warmed the bed in his dreams was to vanish forever. He could live without that carnal mirage; he could forgo her wisping naked form, her soft curves and swells, her harsh breaths, her arching curving warmth beneath him. But he could not live without Lianna. He could never renounce her brilliant smile, her dark hair that shimmered in the candle light, her kind smile, her stubbornness, her recklessness, the way he lips would curl when she was angry or frustrated. He could never let her go, she had crawled and wriggled her way into his mind and forever there she would stay. Be it lover or friend, she would remain, always.

He felt no fear. Only that powerful emotion he could not name flooded and chocked him.

...

Once the feast was over and the names of Ysgramor's Companions recited the long table was cleared from the throne room, to enable those who wished, the space to dance. Ulfric being the Jarl was expected to dance with the woman who offered themselves to him, which of course was every bloody woman in the palace that night. Ulfric didn't mind dancing, he was a good dancer he had been taught from a young age how to act in court, which had, of course, included dancing lessons. No, it was generally his dancing partner that he disapproved of. All women hoping to find themselves in his bed in the morning or have his ring on their finger. All of them had been bred and groomed to please men, he had no patience with these women. Maybe they were good for a tumble between his sheets but none possessed the qualities he wished for in a wife. He didn't want some demure calm delicate thing, blue blood coursing through her veins. If he was to take a wife she would at least need to know how to hold a weapon, she would need to call him out on his bull shit, she would spirit and fire. Strangely, it was the Lianna that flickered in his mind's eye; again that powerful emotion surged within him. Ulfric shook his head; he had drunken too much mead.

Speaking of the Dragonborn, he found his eyes to be drawn further down the hall, to a young woman dressed in copper with flowers in her hair. She was currently surrounded by women. The smile she wore was tight and uneasy, her shoulders were tense, she was pulling and twisting her fingers slowly. She was uncomfortable, distressed even. Suddenly, as if the Gods had guided that moment, she looked up in his direction, catching his eye. Even from across the crowded room he saw her eyes spark with relief, her lips formed the words 'Help me'. He supposed she wanted him to act quickly as there was a sudden and quick addition of the word 'Please'. Abruptly she turned back to the gabbling nobles, the whole one side exchange had happened so quickly Ulfric wasn't even sure if it had indeed taken place at all. Her reason for turning her attention back to the group so sharply was made apparent when a few of the mob turned their heads in his direction.

Not one to leave a damsel in distress, Ulfric made his way towards them as quickly and casually as possible. As he drew closer he could see that the group of women surrounded and enclosed the Dragonborn. Such was the fascination of her and their badgering of her that those at the back were even stood on the tips of their toes to be a part of the conversation. Lianna's face was a brilliant scarlet, her brow knitted together nervously. One of the woman pushed forward from the group.

''But Lady Dragonborn, how can be without a husband? A woman of such myth and legend, how can no man have claimed you already?''

Ulfric stopped, their conversation interesting him far more than it should have. He hung back, attempting to listen to her response over the women.

''W-well I don't really know...'' Lianna stammered, her ears red. ''I-I suppose no man has found me interesting enough or pretty or-''

Another woman pushed herself forward, not bothering to hear the rest of what she had to say. ''You mean to say that _no_ man has asked ever for your hand?''

''W-well no, I was engaged once.''

A collective gasp along with loud murmurs washed over the excited women. ''And what became of him, if you are not his wife?'' One of the women called out. ''I-er don't know, I haven't had contact with him since I r-ran-refused him.'' The Breton replied, obviously flustered. Again the women began to twitter and titter amongst themselves. ''But do you wish a man would ask for your hand?''

''N-no!'' Lianna spluttered quickly, too quickly.

''Oh she does!'' One of the woman laughed.

''Tell us who!''

''Yes, yes! Tell us!''

''Who is the man?''

The women hollered and howled, their voices merging into one deafening din. They all pushed forward towards the Dragonborn. Lianna's face was twisted with panic, her eyes started to swivel around the room quickly, as if she was planning to run. Things were getting out of hand and quickly, Ulfric swooped forward towards the group of women.

As soon as the women saw him they stilled immediately, all eyes widened. The sudden madness that had controlled them was forgotten as they all rippled at once into a low curtsey. Lianna was the only one who remained at her full height; she was staring at him with a strange emotion in her eyes.

''Good evening. Tell me, are you enjoying yourselves?'' He asked in a controlled cordial tone, as if he had not seen how the women had been acting just moments before. He did not wish to be kind to these women, not in the least. But giving them all a tongue lashing would cause quite a scene, it was a pity really.

''Oh yes, my Lord. We were just talking with the Dragonborn.'' One woman replied as she, like the rest, rose again. The women then looked to Lianna expecting her to concur, Lianna blinked stupidly for a moment.

''I er... Yeah, we were...'' She said, obviously surprised at such a quick change of demeanour by the women.

''Well then I hope you don't mind if borrow her for a moment? I haven't yet had the pleasure of dancing with her.'' He said smoothly.

There was a flicker of something close to annoyance in the women's eyes. Some traded glances of surprise, eyebrows raised, eyes swivelled between the Jarl and the Dragonborn. Wrong ideas were taking root. ''No of course not, my Lord.'' The same woman replied sweetly.

The Dragonborn couldn't have accepted his rescue quicker. As they walked away Ulfric noted that the although her cheeks and neck had returned back to their original colour, her ears still shone brightly. Behind them he could hear the women beginning to whisper and giggle amongst themselves.

''I'm sorry you had to be subjected to that.'' He said in a low voice ''Are you alright?''

''Yes.'' She said, a soft sincere smile on her lips ''Thank you for...for that.''

They made there was to were the other couples were dancing, a few shot glances in their direction. The Jarl and the Dragonborn stood watching for a moment, the women's skirts flaring and ballooning as they were spun. So colourful and graceful were the dancers it was like something out of a dream or a mother's tale. The music changed, to something faster. Some swifter footed couples joined the floor while others separated back into the crowd. Ulfric offered Lianna his hand. ''Care to dance?''

She blinked up at him in surprise. ''You were serious?''

''Of course.''

''But I don't know the steps of any Skyrim dances.''

His lips twitched slightly into a smirk. ''Then I'll teach you.''

She hesitated for a second, as she was making some great deliberation in her head. She must have reached a positive conclusion because a smile played on her lips. ''Alright.'' she said, as she placed her hand in his.

...

Her brow was knitted in concentration, her eyes on their feet. Her shoulders were tense, her limbs ridged.

''You're over thinking it.''

Her eyes snapped to his, her feet stumbled slightly. ''Relax.'' He said a small smirk twitching at his lips.

The v in her brow deepened. ''How am I supposed to relax? Everyone's staring.'' His eyes skirted around the room, indeed a good number of eyes were upon them. ''Can you blame them? Their Jarl dancing with the Dragonborn, it is a spectacle to behold.''

''I don't know how that neck of yours supports such a big head.'' She muttered more too herself than him, Ulfric chuckled gently.

''Forgot them, it's just you and me. Nobody else.'' She nodded, a hint of red on her cheeks.

Gradually her limbs loosened, her movements became easier and more fluid. She began to move with the supple raw grace he had seen in their training sessions. The moved together seamlessly, they knew each other's movements as well as their own. They moved as one, two halves of the same whole. He held her tighter, closer than any of the women he had danced with that night. He span her, laugher bubbled from her lips; he pulled her back to him. Her laughter and her warmth making him more intoxicated that all of the mead that he had drunken that night.

''You're the best dancing partner I've ever had.'' She said as her hand found his shoulder again, and his, the curve of her waist.

''And you mine.'' He murmured ''And the most beautiful.''

She laughed ''Please, you've said that to every woman you've danced with tonight.''

''Yes, but you are the only one I mean it to.''

She rolled her eyes, but despite her apparent dismissal of his words her cheeks still reddened.

The music began to slow, the song would finish soon. Ulfric's eyes idly drifted to the guests watching them, he wish he hadn't. His eyes focused on a young Nord watching them, an intense emotion in his eyes. Grimvar. Ulfric's grip on Lianna's waist subconsciously tightened, as if to prevent the boy from physically tearing her away from him.

''Who are you glowering at?'' Lianna's asked turning her head in the direction in which Ulfric had been staring. He must have been staring longer than he meant to.

''That boy who has been drooling over you all night.'' He growled with disdain.

''He hasn't been drooling over me.''

''You have not seen the way he looks at you.''

She turned back to him her eyes narrowed slightly ''And that is your concern why exactly?''

''Because, you deserve better than him.''

The annoyance faded from her face. A strange look crossed her face, he watched as slowly a smug expression curled her lips. ''You're jealous.'' She teased in a light voice.

Something inside Ulfric snapped.

His nails dug into her skin as he violent, roughly pulled her close to him. So close, their noses nearly pressed together. He held the low curve of her back tightly, forcibly pressing her into him. His eyes were hot with rage. ''I am not _jealous_.'' He growled, his voice shaking with rage. ''I am not _jealous_ of a _boy_.'' He snarled in a low voice. ''That boy does not deserve the _air_ he breaths. Why would I be _jealous_ of _him_?'' Ulfric knew why; because that boy could have her, easily. They were of the same age, the same class. That boy had not be worn by war, he was no cruel man twisted by his past. He could offer her a happy life, a simply life. One she needed. Ulfric only hoped that she didn't want it.

Lianna's eyes were wide with shock and surprise; there was even the tiniest spark of fear. Her breathes were short and sharp, the gold than hung from the delicate low curl of her ears span madly. In her thin delicate dress pressed so tightly to him, he could feel her breasts swelling and falling against his chest, as she took her sharp breaths. His mind sick and tainted with mead, wondered if they had ever been touched by a man before. A world away the music played its last long notes.

He quickly ripped himself from her, fearing where those lecherous thoughts would take him. Fearing that his mind made stupid He said no word to her as he stormed away, leaving the woman bewildered and stunned, alone on the dance floor. He needed oblivion, or better yet a whore to shut out that damn ghost. Something in his gut twisted at the idea of taking another woman to him bed, as if it was some kind of infidelity. Mead, he decided, he needed mead.

...

The cold air washed over, her breath clouded in front of her. She had stepped out of the palace, she needed to breath. She could still feel Ulfric's hand on her back, his nails still digging into her skin. She could still see his frenzied eyes boring into her, how close he had been... He had become so upset but why? Why did he care so much that a man looked at her? Why was he suddenly being so...protective? It wasn't like she couldn't take care of herself, she was the Dragonborn. Something inside her head clicked. He had held her so tightly in the cave, he had tenderly wiped away her tears, he had grown so frantic when another man looked at her... Hope and warmth plumed in her chest. _Maybe, just maybe, he l-_

''Are you alright?'' Asked a kind voice suddenly, snapping her quickly from her thoughts.

She turned hurriedly ''Yes I am, than-'' She stopped, and blinked slowly. There stood behind her was Grimvar, wearing a sheepish grin.

''That's good.'' He said as he approached her. ''I was wondering why you left so quickly.''

''Oh, I just needed some air.'' She replied with a slight grimace, he bobbed his head, a stupidly jolly smile on his face. She was careful to watch his eyes.

An awkward silence passed between them, she fidgeted uncomfortably, she suddenly felt very self conscious. But he was not looking at her, his gaze was to the sky and the two moons. Maybe Ulfric was wrong about him, he had been kind to her and had shown no reason to doubt him. Grimvar suddenly turned to her, that same goofy smile on his lips.

''Y'know I was really disappointed earlier, when I couldn't find you.''

''Really, why?''

The young Nord's cheeks became pink ''Because, I thought I wouldn't have the chance to dance with you.''

This was the man she should have fallen for; with him there would no lies, no deceit. It would be easier with him, and maybe she could be happy with him. The only problem was she didn't want him, nor the simply life he could offer her. She was not the man she hungered for, not the man she adored.

She would happily throw herself into the flames of Oblivion if Ulfric just one looked at her like Grimvar apparently had done. She would happily lock herself away in a charnel house if he looked at her with desires so dark her skin would turn to ash and bone. She would happily lie between those smoking bones in that dark place if he imagined how she would feel beneath him. She would endure every demon and dark thing plucking and pulling at the strings in her heart until they sung, if he dared to wonder how she would sing for him in the darkness. She would let them tear at her skin till they peeled to bone, if he dared to imagine his hands, his tongue, his teeth on her, to see if she would purr.

''Are you alright?''

Lianna blinked suddenly, ripped violently away from her thoughts. She dared not meet his eye fearing that he could see into her mind and see the carnal darkness that festered there. She nodded dumbly; again there was that bright smile. No, this was not the man who she wanted to hold her under dawns light. He was not the man she wanted to hush away her fears. He was not the man she wished would tell her he loved her until he his last breath. Grimvar was not the man she would for cry for, the man she would die for, the man she would scream for. She would never love him, and she was sorry for it. Maybe had she known him months before... But not now. The dice had been rolled and now the Gods had other games to play.

''We should probably go back; you look like you're going to freeze.'' Unlike others who had made commented on her weakness to the cold they had been condescending and derogatory. Grimvar however showed kindness and genuine concern; it was a punishment from the Gods that she had not fallen for him. For the sins and darkness she was to play in she had been punished by loving the wrong man, her own heart would break while Ulfric's bleed. And the Gods would smile.

They were about to turn back, when out from the night's shroud erupted a woman's scream. It froze the blood in their veins, it chilled their lungs to stiffness, their insides clenched, their hearts trembled against their bone cages. Wide white eyes met, the palace and its warmth forgotten. Both turned sprinting, plunging into the charcoal night.

* * *

><p>It just realised that the basic overview of this chapter is everyone's kinda horny...Huh :I<p>

I realise things are getting kinda... sexual. I hope everyone's ok with that, I mean it's not gonna go all Fifty Shades of Stormcloak on us (unless people really want that. You dirty perverts. Lol.) But so far I'm not planning to write any kind of smut, but if people really want me to write about sexy Shout smut (No, I have no idea what this would entail. But it'd be hot, probably. Or just really painful. Idk.) then I'll consider it. But if not, then that's fine too.


	45. The Huntsmen's Snare

I just wanna say thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews and feedback. You guys are too awesome for words...

Ugh. I never feel confident in my writing whenever I write anything action-y, I supposed it's just a question of practicing... I don't know...

P.S. You may have noticed I changed my pen name... Yeah I was kinda bored with the other one. So yeah... I like this one better.

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

The Huntsmen's Snare

* * *

><p>O Death, O Death, O Death,<br>Won't you spare me over till another year?

But what is this, that I can't see?  
>With ice cold hands taking hold of me...<p>

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,  
>Who will have mercy on your soul?<p>

_O Death – Jen Titus_

* * *

><p>Their panting breaths and footfalls were the only sound that pierced the fathomless darkness. The woman's feet were sore and ruddy from the cold ice beneath her bare feet; she had kicked off her flimsy slippers long ago to be far surer in her footing. Her heart beat against her ribs so loudly her ears reverberated with the sound. That scream, she knew of such fear and terror. Golden men with cruel smiles flashed in her mind, the breath was sharp in her throat. Her curled hands that gripped the skirt of her dress trembled. She set her teeth firmly with determination ignoring the sting of heat in her eyes.<p>

Lianna watched as Grimvar vanished behind a corner, she heard the sound of skidding feet. And then nothing but the choking silence. Without further thought Lianna pelted around the corner, she too skidded to a halt when she saw Grimvar stood frozen and unmoving. Suddenly fearful she approached him slowly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

''Grimvar what is i-''

The words died on her lips. The breath was punched from her lungs. Her stomach heaved and rolled, bile burnt her throat. It took all of her will and concentration not to vomit. Grimvar, however, did not have such a strong resolve. The man retched; from his lips spilled the contents of what he had ingested that night. The sight before them...never in her darkest hellish nightmares could she had envisaged such a thing.

Before them lay a woman. Her blood pooled around her still form the pale faces of the moons reflected in the garnet lake. Her eyes were closed as if she was peacefully sleeping, her neck was bloody and open. Her dress had been ripped in two leaving her bare and naked to the falling snow. Her skin of her chest had been peeled back to reveal a bloody maw. The bared teeth of her rib cage had been snapped and pulled away, her lungs and heart were not to be found within that desecrated place.

The stone torch threw dark sharp shadows about them, suddenly something there moved. Lianna's eyes snapped to the darkness, there shifted the figure of a man. The shadow man began to turn away from the scene. Rage and panic swelled in the woman, she looked to Grimvar to see the man completely in shock. Eyes wide with fear, trembling, face shining with sweat. The man within the shadows too off silently, thinking he hadn't been seen. Not hesitating a second further the woman tore after the retreating figure.

...

She followed the sound of the man's footfalls down the dark forsaken streets, his footsteps light and nearly soundless. Though her's made no sound for she worn no shoes to make sound. Out of the weaving back alleys she sprung, out onto the street she ran, the moon dancing with the ice on the dark stones bellow her sore feet. Now she could see the man dead ahead, no longer was he hidden by walls and stone.

''Hey!'' She shouted into the darkness. The man turned suddenly, surprised he had been shadowed. Neither moved as their eyes locked, their breath hung frozen and stagnate in the air. Now no longer in the shadows, bathed in the light of the moons she could see him more clearly. He was dressed in a dark tunic, a piece of cloth covered the lower part of his face. So that only his eyes were visible to her, wild and brilliant in the pale weak light. Without warning the man dashed forward. Fire flurried and blurred from her quick hands, crashing and exploding around the man's flitting dodging form. _He's fast. _She thought as none of her volleys of fire found their mark, his volting leaping figure nimble and quick between the rushes of fire. He had crossed the distance between them while dodging the sweeping swings of fire like it was child's play. The air crackled and blue energy pulsed and jolted around his hand and forearm. He raised his arm and a line of electricity flew from his fingertips, cutting from the fire like a hot blade through butter.

And suddenly he was above her, in the air reaching for her with his arm surrounded with snapping energy. Panic and fear suddenly filled her, her heart hammered violently, eyes widened. Thinking quickly Lianna reached out with her magic, the settled snow around them shifted, swelling and building, raced forward in a wave. The frozen torrent of snow collided with the man as he tumbled towards her, he was thrown back violently to the ground. However the man skillfully landed on the balls of his feet, crouched. Lianna breath was short and fearful, this guy, this murderer was strong.

Her stance stiffened as the man rose to his feet. She never dared her eyes to leave him, feverish and restless she watched him. The man calmly patted the snow from his shoulders and tunic. His eyes were bright with mad amusement, like a cat playing with a mouse before he kills it. Fire bolted from his hands, Lianna was forced to counter with her own bolts of fire. His were stronger, hotter and far more explosive. Those she managed to avoid would strike the cobbled street; they would shatter the black stone leaving smoking craters. Her breath left her in gasps as she evaded the hot reaching licking flames, she countered his flames with her own, his always won. She couldn't keep this up much longer; she was fast running out of magika.

Without warning he stopped his barrage of fire. He watched her as she weakly panted a strange look in his eyes. Whereas she felt and looked physically drained, he looked calm and completely at ease. _Who is this guy? _Lianna thought between harsh breaths.

''I'm impressed.'' She jumped as he spoke for the first time, it struck her as strange that he sounded normal. ''You show a great deal of skill. It would almost be a pity to kill you.'' He paused, her eyes narrowed at him. ''Of course, I could avoid killing you. You could walk away now, girl. You could walk away with your life.''

The blood roared in her ears as she trembled. He could smell her fear, her dread, her unwillingness to die. She summoned all the courage and bravado she had left in her ''Fuck off.'' She spat back.

''So be it.''

She watched in equal awe and horror as the falling snow stilled in the air. She watched stunned as the still countless flakes shifted and changed into long deadly spikes. The ice spikes tinkled and creaked softly as they hung ominously in the air. ''You have chosen your fate, and it is death.'' The air rippled as the spikes flew forward, they whistled through the air with alarming speed. There was no way she could avoid them all, not with the sheer number of them, and not with her heavy cumbersome dress weighing her down.

A shield of fire rose around her as the first volleys of spikes flew towards her, the ice shattered and melted on impact. A small feeling of victory fizzed inside of her, but it was not to last. The shield was growing weaker, the flames smaller and colder. There came that sharp whistling sound in the air again. Through the thin veil of fire she watched as a myriad of ice flew towards her, she strengthened the flames sapping the little remaining magika she had left. Her skin prickled as she heard a mad howling laugh from the man, horror and fear gripped her icily as she watched the spikes melt into droplets. The fat droplets then joined and melted together making a wave of water. Her eyes were wide; the fire shield fizzled into nothing as the last of her magika drained from her. She had heard of great powerful wizards and witches being able to manipulate ice between its forms, but never had she expected to face someone of such skill, of such power.

The wave crashed into her, the cold water burnt her nose and throat. The wall of water sent her flying backwards, through the air she span to come crashing down into a wall. She coughed and spluttered against the water in her lungs, her vision was murky and dull. Her head throbbed, she trembled both with chill and fear as she watched the man approach. Weakly, shakily, she pulled herself into some kind of sitting position.

''Stay back!'' She barked, even to her own ears the pitiful threat sounded like a plea of a petrified child. The man did not stop his advancement, as he stepped slowly towards her cowering form, he drew a long stained dagger from his belt.

Hot pain burned through her scalp as he roughly grabbed her now loose sodden tangled hair. He crouched down beside her; she could feel his foul breath hot on her face. She leant away from him, he roughly pulled her back. She closed her eyes tightly, as if she could open them and this was all to be some nightmare, and she would be safe and warm in her bed. From the darkness of her eyelids sneering golden men rose, their eyes flashed with cruelty. The man pulled at her hair tipping her head this way and that, as if he was assessing her. There was a short pause, then she felt his long foul fingers beginning to curl around the fabric of her dress that covered chest. She stiffened in panic; his nails dug and scratched the skin just below her collar bone. Again he paused. Her head was spinning, her heart hammered, she was trembling like a leaf caught in a summer breeze. And suddenly as if the idea no longer appealed to him his fingers were gone from her skin. Or maybe he never had any such intentions and it was just a cruel ruse to torture his victims before he killed them.

Hot tears fell from her cheeks as the cold blade kissed the trembling pulsing skin of her neck. ''Strange, most would beg for their lives.'' He mused; he pulled at her hair and pressed the dagger harder into her throat. ''Why do you not?'' He sounded curiously puzzled; like a confused child who did not understand. She would not beg for her life, not from him. She remained silent, eyes squeezed shut. Her lack of response must have angered him because he pulled on her long hair so sharply a grunt of pain escaped her. ''_BEG_!'' He sharply screamed against her ear, his spittle struck her skin like arrow heads. She slowly opened her eyes and stared back at him, she saw the madness and the rage that burned in his eyes.

''No.''

A furious guttural howl of indignation ripped from his concealed mouth. Savagely he slammed her head into the wall, she cried out in pain as her skull struck the cold stone. She felt a spreading thick warmth across her temple, her vision grew fuzzy and dark again. She heard the muffled shrieks of the mad man, his voice indistinct and distant to her dazed ears. In the murky clumsy distance she heard a different voice shout out towards them, the mad man let go of her hair, her head dropped and bobbed for a moment before she righted herself. Through the dazed darkness her eyes found Grimvar, never had she seen such a look of anger or disgust on a man's face before.

Slowly her murky grainy vision cleared, blinking back against the darkness she saw Grimvar draw a sword from his belt. The young Nord leapt forward sword ripping through the air, without warning his body froze, the sword clattered to the floor from his suddenly slack hand. His eyes were wide with fear and shock. Bewildered her eyes spun from the frozen Nord back to the shrouded mad man. Her eyes widened, the mad man's arms were raised and there was a brilliant flash of cruel amusement in his eyes, followed immediately by a scream from Grimvar. She watched breath harsh and short as Grimvar's arm twisted violently followed by a loud snap. Never had she seen telekinesis so strong as to control another's body. Grimvar's body convulsed madly his screams of agony burned her ears, his eyes wildly rolled in their sockets.

Her own screams at the hands of Thalmor filled her head as the man continued to scream. She was back in that dark room, the elves stood around her making her sob and scream as her blood stained the cold floor.

''Stop, please.'' She breathed as tears ran down her cheeks. She was not sure who she was begging to, the elves that burned in her head. This man who had lost all sense, or the gods who had senselessly played her in their vile game.

Blood seeped and spilt from the corners of Grimvar's mouth, his eyes were beginning to lose their focus. The mad man laughed maniacally, her ears were choked with the elves's cruel laughter and his. Screams both her own and those that were not ran in her mind.

''_STOP_.'' She screamed into the cacophony of darkness. Grimvar's screams fell silent, his body dropped limp to the floor. The wind rushed and howled between the dark stone around them. The mad man turned to her a for a moment his skin was golden and his eyes a burning copper, she blinked past fat tears and his skin and eyes were dull again.

He took a slow step towards her, she flinched and tried to shuffle away from him but found her back against the wall. He raised his arms and her body became his, like a puppet under the command of it's master's strings. She tried to move her limbs desperately, but felt searing white pain tightening around arms, scratching at her bones. She felt the searing chill reaching and twisting inside of her. Her screams filled her ears as the magic twisted and pulled at her organs. Slowly the freeze magic inched towards her heart, reaching ghosting forward the chill's fingertips encircled her quivering heart. The magic's long fingers curled around her warbling heart, the ice squeezed around the pulsing organ.

Suddenly a brilliant heat exploded from somewhere deep in her skull. The crippling hot energy exploded throughout her entire body, evaporating the evil magic that gripped her. The hot energy rushed to her throat, Lianna could not stop the energy as it flew from her lips, burning her throat and lips in the process.

''FUS RO DAH!''

The mad man was sent flying backwards across the cobblestones. Lianna watched stunned as the man crashed down to the ground. _What...what was that? _Her throat burned in pain as she tried to slow her breaths, her head was suddenly heavy and she felt strangely drained and slow. As if whatever energy had escaped her had taken of all her strength with it. She saw the mad man slowly, shakily rise to his feet. The dim murkiness slowly returned, clouding her vision; the man's dark form was hazy and indistinct as stepped heavily towards her. ''So you are the Dragonborn of legend.'' In the distance there could be heard the tramping of boots, it must be the guard she realised. The mad man must have also realised for he suddenly turned in the direction of the slowly nearing sound. He turned back to her; she could now not distinguish him against the blackness of the night. The darkness slowly started to pull her under, down into unconsciousness. As the waves pulled her down, sinking deeper the man's voice reverberated in her ears.

''You may escape with your life tonight Dragonborn. But when next we meet you will not be so lucky.''

...

He should have kept an eye on her. Of course something like this would happen, of course.

He had been worried when she had apparently vanished from the feast, he had grown more agitated when he realised that Grimvar was also absent. When a white-as-a-sheet Grimvar had burst through the palace doors shouting something about a murder the whole room had exploded into pandemonium. The absence of the young woman had made the Jarl jump to the darkest possible conclusion. Lianna was dead, butchered and bloody in some back alley. How his heart trembled and throbbed at that thought. It was only after they had calmed the boy, and managed to get two consecutive words out of him that it was apparent that Lianna was not dead. Much to Ulfric's relief. But in all her recklessness she had ran after the murderer without a second thought. When the guards had entered the palace with her limp in the arms of one of them. How his knees had trembled and his heart had wavered as the sight of her. her bedraggled hair, her dress torn and darkened, her skin darkened with sweat dirt and dried blood. And now he sat outside of her room, his head in his hands the most terrified he had been in a long time.

The door swung open and Wuunferth emerged from the small room, Ulfric rose from the chair.

''How is she?''

''She'll live, she suffered no real injury, simply exhaustion.'' Ulfric gave a heavy sigh of relief, which did not go unnoticed by the mage. ''You should be thankful to the Cruel-Sea boy. It's quite possible without him she would not still be living.'' Ulfric gave a snort in response, when the Jarl made a movement towards the door, Wuunferth remained still before the door, blocking the entrance. Ulfric raised a slow eyebrow, not many would stand directly in his way ,figuratively or literally, the mage was one of the few however. ''I would not go in, Ulfric. She sleeps still, and will likely for a while.'' When it looked like the old mage was hesitating on some thought Ulfric, again, raised his brow. ''What is it? Speak.''

''I believe that it wouldn't be...wise to enter the bedchamber of a young woman, while she sleeps inside. ''

Ulfric bristled ''Are you suggesting that I would force myself upon her?'' The younger man snarled, outraged. Again the mage was hesitant, ''Well?''

''The people talk, Ulfric...''

''And you, of all people, believe such rumour and conjecture?''

''No, but you have been acting...differently around her. You have grown close, dangerously so.''

''And what of it? She is a friend and my student.''

''You have never been so close to a woman before who has not been part of your court, or been in your be-''

''Hold you tongue. Lest you forgot who you are talking to.'' The Jarl snapped. Wuunferth pinched the bridge of his nose and breath deeply for a moment, while Ulfric fumed silently.

He was furious that the mage thought him lecherous enough to take advantage of the young woman while she was under his tutelage. But he was far more outraged with the suggestion that the mage and his people believed the woman so willing to please a man. He knew she had been rebellious while under her father's roof, she had learnt to ride a horse like a man at night, she had taught herself small lessons of the arcane arts, she had even ran away from an arranged marriage. But he could not see her as one of the noblewomen who threw themselves into man's bed to spite their fathers or husbands.

''I simply wish you would be more prudent in your actions, whether your intentions are innocent...or they are not. Rumours are often given far more creditability then they deserve. I do not want the people to think wrongly of their Jarl, or of their future High King.''

''People believe what they will, regardless of the truth.'' He growled as he walked away from the mage. ''I'll hear nothing more on the subject, is that understood?'' The Jarl ran a hand through his hair, he needed a long walk to collect his thoughts.

...

The hour was late, the sky was shrouded by thick clouds heavy with snow that would likely fall over the coming days. He was leant against a wall, his head back, his sight focused on nothing in particular in the dark sky above him. His breath was thick and smoky as it climbed weakly above his fair head. How did he exactly feel about Lianna? What _were_ his intentions towards her? There was certainly no denying that he was sexually attracted to her, but beyond that... He certainly cared for her deeply that was also certain, but to what end? The idea of mere friendship had long ago lost its appeal to him; his dreams of her had made sure of that. But did he...did he love her?

Even now as he thought of her, this feeling... How could he be so stupid, so ignorant, so blind, in such denial to not be able to put a name to such a feeling. Maybe he had subconsciously refused to acknowledged his feelings for her because she was not some strong axe wielding Nord woman, but a small Breton mage. Her hair was not golden like wheat, but brown like the fur of a rabbit. She did not wear sturdy strong armour, but soft dyed robes. She was not hardy to the cold or snow, the weakest frost sent shivers up her spine. The ground did not quake beneath her feet; her steps were light and soft. She was the furthest thing from a strong Nord woman; she was a small weak impertinent Breton woman. But Gods help him, he loved her.

How far did his distrust of magic and the folk who wielded it run for him to refuse to believe, to ignore his feelings for her? How deep did his spiteful grudge against her kin from twenty years ago burn, for him to deny and refuse to acknowledge his love for her? Far deeper then he previously thought he realised with a sickening self hatred. He wondered how his generals and court members would react to the news that their Jarl, a man who stood for the old traditions and the old ways of life, had fallen not for a strong Nord woman whose blood ran in this land. But for a foreigner already something poorly trusted in Skyrim. A not only a foreigner a mage which only increased the level of suspicion around her, her elven heritage would only enforce their displeasure of his heart's choice. Regardless of the dragon souls that roared inside of her, regardless of her mantle as the Dragonborn. She would always been seen as a weak puny woman. Not worthy enough for his love or his name. She would forever be seen as an outsider, someone who did not belong, and never would.

Moreover, could he truly love her, with his whole body heart and soul, while he distrusted her kin and the magic that they wielded? Could he say he loved her while he denied the blood that had ever so slight pointed her ears and carried magic in her veins? How far and deep reaching was his denial and distrust? It was quite possible that if they were to ever have children they would wield magic, and their blood would also be that of distant elves. Could he truly say he loved his own blood, while all his life he had been told and had seen the darkness and cruelty of magic and the Mer that wielded it? He dragged his hands down his face, he was over thinking this. He loved her plain and simple. The heritage of her blood and the magic that she controlled shouldn't have mattered, But Gods it did. What cruel games were the Gods playing to make him fall for the wrong woman? Did the Gods choose this woman to show him all of his wrongs, as atonement for his sins? Or were they simply revelling in his anguish and confusion? He didn't know and he didn't think he even would know or understand the will of the Gods

...

Wuunferth had been right, he owed the boy thanks. From the story he had heard if it the boy hadn't been there Lianna would likely be dead. And now he stood outside the younger man's door. He felt unwilling to thank the boy, he was the Jarl he offered no one his thanks. He had not forgotten the way the boy's dark eyes had rolled over Lianna during the feast, how he had stared at them so intensely while they had danced. The boy was a little shit, that was certain but, unfortunately, a little shit he was indebted to. As he was about to knock on the door, he heard the voice of the boy from inside the room.

''I apologise for the late hour, but I needed to talk to you. Urgently.''

''Is something the matter?''

That voice! Ulfric stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth went dry. Lianna. What was she doing in his room? Alone? And at night? His mind started racing madly, he stood frozen before the door. A part of him knew he should not be listening, this was a private conversation not for others ears. But another part refused to allow himself to leave her alone with the boy.

''N-no nothing is particularly the matter...'' He heard the boy softly stammering ''I w-wanted to ask s-something.''

''Yes?''

''I-I know we have only known each other for a short while, but life in Skyrim is short and hard, and we must seize these moments when the arise. I believe that during out short time together we have grown c-close...''

''W-what are you exactly asking?'' Her voice was quite in disbelief. The stone corridor was beginning to sway, the blood roared in his ears, his knees were weak.

''I-I'm asking you to m-marry me.''

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><p>D: Dun dun dun...<p> 


	46. Frayed Hearts

Happy Christmas (and or) Happy Holidays! :D

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Frayed Hearts

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><p>Who cares if you disagree?<br>You are not me  
>Who made you king of anything?<br>So you dare tell me who to be?  
>Who died and made you king of anything?<p>

_King of Anything - Sarah Bareilles_

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><p>She stared back at the young man, eyes wide, mouth agape. Grimvar stared back expectantly.<p>

''You can't be serious.'' She breathed as she shook her head in disbelief.

''I am.'' His tone was level, his eyes unwavering.

''Then you're not in your right mind. You've taken too much Poppy milk.''She rose from the chair beside his bed, suddenly the room felt far smaller to her, the walls were closing in. ''You are not in your right mind.'' She repeated more to herself than him. Grimvar quickly grabbed her with his good arm, his other being in a sling. He caught her wrist preventing her from leaving. ''You and I both know that I am of sound mind.'' She turned back to him, a strange look in her grey eyes. ''Please,'' His voice was soft as his hand moved to grip her's, she froze at his touch. ''I pry you to stay. Just hear me out, please.'' She turned away from him for a moment, he tried not to notice how the fire light caught her hair just right, despite being tousled darkened with ash. She meditated on his plea, for what felt an excruciating amount of time to the man. She could have easily pulled away if she so wished, he was weaker than her in this drugged and injured state. Finally she she turned back to him, hesitantly.

He pulled himself free of the sheets to sit on the bed, opposite her. ''Maybe I was too abrupt before.''

''Just a bit of an understatement.'' She muttered, as she sat herself down into the chair. He chuckled softly as he loosened his grip on her hand, he noted how she slowly drew away. He had a feeling it was more out of politeness then anything else. ''Then let me explain myself.'' Suddenly nervous he felt unsure of himself, he was aware of how his hands trembled, they were damp and so was his brow. _Just say it, just do it! _''I love you.'' He finally said, he looked up at her nervously, to find her eyes on the floor.

''You can't love me.''

''But I do. Passionately and-''

''You can not.'' She cut in, slowly she raised her eyes to his. ''How can you love me? What love is forged in a day?''

The young Nord blinked dumbly for a moment his mouth suddenly dry. He hadn't expected that response. ''I don't know.'' He finally breathed, he raised his hand to face. ''But I've never felt like this... About anybody before.'' He felt a soft, warmth on his shoulder. Looking up he found her hand there and kind look in her eye.

''Just because I am the first does not mean I am to be the last.'' She squeezed his good shoulder gently. ''One day you'll find a woman you'll truly, passionately, uncontrollably love and you'll marry and be happy.'' He looked up at her, eyes slightly moist.

''Do you truly believe such a thing?''

She flashed him a wide grin ''Of course.'' Her smile wavered and for a moment, just a moment, there was a flash of regret in her eyes. ''But that day is not this day and I am not that woman.'' She slowly withdrew her hand from his broad shoulder, ''I'm sorry Grimvar.'' Her voice was soft ''But I can not marry you.'' From outside, in the corridor there was the sound of heavy footsteps and then the heavy closing of a door.

He looked at her closely in the wavering candle light, she was wonderful to him. She was a small dark entrancing wild thing, maybe because she was different from all the porcelain skin and golden haired women, that was why he had become so dearly fond of her. She was something exotic and different, small, soft and kind. Traits that were rare in his homeland, if a woman wasn't fully prepared to spill blood then she wasn't to be considered a good wife. Maybe it was her traits he so dearly wanted and not the woman herself. How had he been so truly stupid, so blind, so desperate, so naive, to fall for this woman's kindness while she did not love him back, while she clearly loved another.

''What a fool I am. What a complete and utter fool I am.'' He muttered as he looked down at his hands.

''How so?''

''To pursue so desperately after a woman who does not care for me. Whose heart already has pledged itself to another.'' Lianna stiffened at his words and her cheeks became red hot. A smile twitched at his lips at her reaction ''I see it when you look at him when he's not looking. You love the Jarl, don't you?''

There was a long pause, a ghost of a smile pulled at her lips, her eyes on her hands. ''Yes.'' She finally whispered.

''I hope this love was not forged in but a day.''

A soft chuckle escaped her lips ''Gods, If only you knew.'' She shook her head softly ''When I first met him I hated him, detested the very ground he walked upon, but now...''

''You love him.'' The man supplied.

''He can still frustrate me to no end.'' she smirked slightly ''but yes, I love him.''

He saw the love in her eyes, the softness of her face, of her words. This was true love he realised, whatever he felt for her paled in comparison to what she felt for the Jarl. How naive of him to believe what he felt for her to be love.

''He is a lucky man, to have won your heart. I hope you can find happiness with him.''

''So do I...''

...

She had not slept well, if at all. Golden pointed eared men, dark shadow men with mad rolling eyes and huge snarling black dragons, all haunted her dreams in turn. She had awoken for the final time that night well before dawn, breaths fast and uneven, sheets damp with sweat and gritty with the dirt that still clung to her skin from the night before. The night previous she had been too tired and too sore to care to wash herself, no matter how uncomfortable she felt or how terrible she probably smelled or looked. Grimvar had made no comment, but that had probably been partly due to the man being far too polite and probably from all of the analgesic he had ingested that had numbed him to some degree. Some of the servants had not been so polite, they had wrinkled her nose at her, not knowing what had happened to her nor who she was. Though she doubted that it would have changed their reaction in the slightest if they had known. To most she was still a Breton mage, something to be treated with suspicion and at arms lengths.

She rose from her bed taking with her only set robes and began searching the many dark corridors for somewhere to bathe, so as to finally rid this layer of grit and ash from her skin and hair. Despite being at the palace for two months she had not bathed herself fully. She had always used the deep basin in her room that had been filled every morn. With cold water she might add,(though this had never been a problem for her, as she could simply heat it with her magic) and a single coarse sponge to wash herself with. The experience was never pleasant, but considering the only other option was to bathe in the White River, she was almost happy to stand naked and shivering in the delicate chill of the early morning that always seemed to permeate through the thick walls, hurriedly washing herself with her one coarse sponge. Almost. She had always been too embarrassed or too awkward to ask for a maid to draw a bath for her. She knew that here she had no command or authority, unlike back at her father's home where the maids would do what she asked of them to the very letter. But even back then such command over people had unsettled her.

At last she found somewhere to bathe. It was a large long room everything in the dark stone characteristic of the city, large heavy dark chandelier fitted with fat unlit candles hung from the surprisingly low ceiling. The dark stone and the lack of light, except from a single high window, made the place look gloomy and strangely foreboding. Focusing her attention to the candles she lit them with a quicker flicker of her fingers, now in the light she could see that most of the floor was taken up by a large stone square bath. Around the bath apparently, cut from the walls itself, were stone benches, it was on this stone that she carefully placed her robes.

Judging from the size and the undercurrent of simplistic opulence, these baths were for the communal usage of the nobles and people of court. _Far too grand for servants_ she thought to herself as her eyes rolled about the room, they probably bathed themselves somewhere else, she was thankfully for this; as soon they would rise to light the fires in grates and begin the preparation for breakfast. With a smirk she imagined what their faces would look like if she indeed found herself in their baths rather these. Knowing she would not be disturbed for some time (the people of the court never rose before the sun) she leisurely padded to the stone bath. She experimentally turned the silver tap that sat perfectly in the mouth of a that of a stone bear, that took pride of place in the middle of the wall directly over the middle of the large bath. Surprised she found the water was hot, possibly heated by enchanted pipes beneath the palace. She stripped from her under shirt and trousers, then from her small clothes and chest bindings, and sank into the hot water letting out a sigh of pleasure. The warmth deliciously soothed her taut and stiff muscles, she closed her eyes for a moment letting the water's warmth cradle her. Resting her head back against the stone walls of bath, she hummed a soft tune she vaguely remembered from her childhood. She had not released how much she had missed a long hot bath, soon she would be on the road again to High Hrothgar and it would likely be she could not bathe so well for some time, so she was going to take advantage of this opportunity.

Stretched out across the bath she wondered if Ulfric is used these baths or he had his own, she quickly answered her own pondering. He certainly had private bathing quarters, of course he would he_ was_ the Jarl after all. Suddenly an image of the Jarl's own private bathing room filled her mind with a very, very naked Ulfric also present. Her face reddened tremendously, she sank deeper into the water, as if to hide from the God's judgement. _Del, you're an idiot. _She told herself as she attempted to remove that particular image from her mind, as pleasant as it was. To turn away her mind from such thoughts she grabbed the nearby slab of soap and began to wash herself. When she was done, her skin and hair fresh and clean, the water was left dark and murky and the soap far darker than it had started out. She left the dark and sullied soap on the side of the bath, her face slightly red, a small smirk on her lips, equally embarrassed and amused as she pictured the face of the poor noble who would next use it. The water at least would drain away.

While searching for a towel she also found a pair of shears, she held them thoughtfully. She remembered Ulfric telling her how unwise long hair was, and then, with a shudder, she remembered the mad man's rough grip, his foul fingers gripping her long locks, his nails scratching at her scalp. Ulfric had been right, long hair was dangerous in battle, it also didn't make things any easier in the harsh winds. She sat down on the long stone bench, placing her towel beside her. She turned the shears over in her hands a few times thinking it over, it was a stupid thing to care about really, hair was something young maidens and noblewomen played with in fields full of summer flowers. And she was hardly a noblewomen, at least any longer. A part of her wished to keep her hair long simply to go against Ulfric's word, even though he was right. On this one thing. But practicality told her that long hair was just a stupid unnecessary thing, and only made her closer to having her limbs chopped off, as Ulfric has said. Sighing she pressed the open shears to her long dark hair and began to cut. She stopped when her hair was at the length of the lobe of her ear, it was very short to her as she ran an unsure hand through it. _But for the better_, she told herself, it would just take some getting used to.

As she reached for a towel she had placed on the bench, she heard the rush of voices from outside the door, they were that of two women. She payed them no mind while she dried herself, that was until she heard the Jarl's name. She stopped all movement so better to hear them with, water dripped from her to the stone floor.

''Are you sure?'' Came one voice

''Aye, Bryling told me she saw them herself.'' Came the second disembodied voice, lower than the first.

''Too imagine, the Jarl and the Dragonborn.''

''I told you, didn't I? I told you,'' the first persisted excitedly ''he isn't teaching her how to use a sword. He's screwing her.''

Lianna staggered back, falling back into the stone bench. Head swimming.

''But there has been no blood on his sheets. I should know I am the one who cleans them.''

There was a slight pause followed by tittering laughter. ''So she is not as innocent as she appears. The little harlot!''

The tittering laughter faded as the two women moved further down the corridor and out of range for her ears.

Her face was a brilliant crimson and hot enough to put the sun out of business. She wanted to just die, curl up in hole somewhere and never ever, ever return. She hurriedly wrapped herself in the towel, as if to hide her nakedness from invisible all seeing lying eyes. They thought she was a common whore, they thought she was screwing the Jarl. _ In my dreams._ As foul as the lie was she knew that a part of her wanted there to be a grain of truth within it. _Shut up. Shut up. **Shut** up._ She damned herself as she hurriedly pulled on her robes and fled away the baths and from the women's evil words, and away from their prying eyes. She did not stop until she came to her room and once there she threw herself on her bed, and hoped that Tsun would pull her from Nirn and throw her over the side of the Whale bone Bridge himself.

...

She was distracted during their training session, she paid more attention to all the things dwelling in her mind rather than sparring with Ulfric, this showed as soon she was flat on her back the point of a wooden sword at her throat.

''Even _you_ are not _this_ bad of a swordsmen.'' He said in disapproving voice, his brow creased. ''Do you truly miss your hair that much?'' He jested, when her eyes didn't flash with amusement or annoyance, his frown deepened. She raised herself into a sitting position, Ulfric put his sword aside and sat beside her. ''What's on your mind?''

''A lot of things.'' She sighed, she curled a strand of her now short hair around her ear. A lot of things indeed, not only Grimvar's proposal from a few days previous, but also that strange power that sprung suddenly from somewhere inside of her. And to make things worse, golden men had started to again stalk her dreams. ''Have you ever, not been in control of your Shouts?''

He cocked his head to the side slightly, brow furrowed. ''What do you mean?''

She remembered the burning rush of powerful energy that had broken free from some sort of confinement inside of her, she remembered how sore and raw her throat had been as the energy had forced a Shout from her mouth. What it ever had been, the power did not yield to her, if anything she had yielded to it. ''During my fight with the murderer something, I don't know what it was, but some strange energy came over me. And I Shouted against me will.'' She looked to him, his brow was furrowed with concern. ''Have you every heard of such a thing?''

He shook his head ''No, I have not.'' Her eyes dropped with disappointment to her feet. ''But the Greybeards may know something of it, how soon do you leave for High Hrothgar?''

''So eager to be rid of me?'' Her lips quirked into a grin.

''I think it would be best if you left sooner rather than later.'' His tone was serious and authoritative, the grin fell from her face.

''I leave at first light tomorrow.''

''Good.'' She cocked her head slightly to the side, trying to ignore the feeling of hurt building inside of her. ''The city is not safe, especially for you.''

''How so?''

''If that murderer is to strike again you would likely be one of the prime targets. Especially now he knows you are the Dragonborn.''

''But can you stop him? He's a master wizard, not something to be taken lightly.''

''We will do what we can. Let's just hope we can kill the bastard.''

''It seems cowardly though, to leave now.''

''You are too important to Skyrim to risk your life over this.'' He rose, offering his hand to her he pulled the woman to her feet. He then took the two wooden swords and proceeded to place them on the rack. ''At least this way no man can claim you be it in death or other means.''

She stopped dead, eyes wide ''What do you mean by that?'' Her tone serious and low. He was slow to turn, but when he did his face was as emotionless and impassive as when she had first known him. Heat rushed in her cheeks and her heart pounded in her ribs, he knew, he knew about Grimvar's proposal. ''How do you know?'' He did not respond, he would not meet her eyes as if suddenly ashamed of himself. ''_How_?'' She shouted, the flames on the torches flickered and jumped with her outburst.

''I overheard you.''

Her breaths were harsh as her chest heaved, thinking back to the night she had indeed heard footsteps outside the door but had paid them no mind. Relief and betrayal gripped her and chocked. Relief that he had left before he had overheard her confessions, betrayed that he would listen in on such a private and intimate moment. ''That was a private conversation. You had no right to eavesdrop.'' She snapped, her face red from anger and embarrassment.

''You do not deserve him.'' He growled, suddenly he was so very close to her. He towered over her, his voice low and deadly. ''That boy hardly deserves his own name, let alone you.''

''Then what man do you think I deserve? _You?_'' She glowered up at him, her mouth curled into a snarl. ''And since when do you have any say in my life?'' She breathed angrily ''Who gave you the _fucking_ right to say who I could or could not marry? What are you my father?'' He seemed to visibly flinch at that. ''Would you be stood behind my shoulder every time a man proposes to me?'' Not that it was likely she was to be proposed to again, she hoped, she didn't know if her heart could take it.

''If I must.'' He growled back.

They stood toe to toe, glowering down at each like snarling wolves, eyes brilliant with the flame's light and their anger and frustration. ''Well don't trouble yourself, I don't intend to marry. Ever.'' For a second, just a moment his eyes widened, he appeared troubled by that.

''If you think I do this for myself you're wrong. I do this for you.''

''You're so full of crap.'' She growled back ''You probably started that rumour too.'' She knew that he had not been the one to start such a rumour, but as this point she was too blinded by anger her to see with any sense.

''What rumour?''

''Apparently we've been sleeping together, which is news to me.''

Suddenly he gripped her shoulders, his skin on the naked flesh of her shoulder sent primeval shudders through her body. ''Surely you know I would never do such a thing.'' She stepped away from him, her heart hammering.

''I don't know what to believe of you.'' She breathed as she turned and vanished into the darkness of the tunnels. She heard him shout after her and begin to follow her. She broke into a run, she fled from his echoing voice and his reverberating footsteps deeper into the fathomless empty darkness she ran.

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><p>I just realised that the 21st was our one year anniversary. :D We're one year old guys. Woo! Frankly I'm just amazed that this story has been part of my life for a whole year. This story has grown so, so much since last year, you guys don't even know, I mean there would have been no way that I would have kept with this story without you guys. It's because of all of the reviews, favorites, follows that I stuck with this and I'm so, so glad I did. I mean last year I had no idea how much this would grow, we're at 46 chapters and over 100K words with over 50K views, and still going and... the words don't even fghjk.<p>

Just thank you for being awesome, let's just hope the next year will be as amazing as the past one has. :D

P.S. Considering it's Christmas 'n' all, if you could get anything, anything at all, this Christmas what would it be? Personally, it would have to be my letter from Hogwarts even if it is like six years late I still wanna go. Even though I would probably end up in Hufflepuff, apparently we're good finders or something. So, what would you get?


	47. Monks and Soldiers

Ok sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but as soon as I got back to college we had exams. And when exams (A levels in particular) raise their ugly horrible heads fan fiction obviously has to take a back seat. I tried to write this chapter before any of my exams started, but I suppose stress made writing very difficult so I took a break from writing for a bit, that break somehow turned into a bloody month. But now I'm free from exams and the stress, which means I have more time on my hands which means more frequent chapters. If there isn't a new chapter by next week you all have permission to come to the UK and lynch me.

* * *

><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Monks and Soldiers

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><p>The scouts had reported that the Imperials would be upon them within the next sun high. The Stormcloaks were full of fizzing nervous anticipation for battle, their frustration of the past two months stalemate made them short with each other, like restless beasts. Everyone was jumpy and impatient; nerves were beginning to bleed down from the officers and captains trickling into the lower ranks. Word was the Imperials were numbered at ten thousand men, two thousand more heads than their own number. Two thousand more armed bodies thirsty for their blood. At least they had the advantage of rest, the rebels were still fresh. Most had been posted here some weeks before; the rest of their number was made up of the city guard. But, Adair doubted how much their enemy's fatigue would help them; Whiterun's land was flat and long, made up of heath land and murky grey woodlands. Easy manageable terrain, had it been haunted marshes of Hjaalmarch or the thigh deep snow and howling winds of Winterhold, then maybe the enemy's fatigue would have worked far further in their favour, but alas their battle was to be made and won, he hoped, here.<p>

He leant against the parapet of Whiterun's ageless walls; the wind ruffled his short hair. On the distant horizon he could see the glint of steel helmets and banner heads between the long green shadows of trees. The sky overhead was grey and heavy; occasionally thunder would grumble overhead threatening a downpour. The heath land was dotted with periwinkle and the heather was turning from a sick maroon to a brilliant scarlet. He closed his eyes drinking in this moment of peace, the air smelled of moss and sweet nectar from sprouting blooms of oppressive crush energy. He had sought the peace of the battlement to be away from the rabble and ruckus below, but that heavy weight of what the looming day would bring still weighed on him heavily.

Leant against the parapet, the sound of soldiers and their chinking creaking chain mail and the snorts and wails of horses seemed to be far below him. The thick growling clouds seemed almost touchable, far closer than the scene before him. His mind wondered to his sister, what she was doing at this moment? Maybe she was taking down a dragon or maybe, like himself, she was ponderous while the world hurtled forward without them. She likely had no idea that he was stationed here, and that tomorrow if his steel failed him she would become an only child. It was foolish to think so pessimistically he told himself as he shook himself from his dark reverie. The man pulled himself away from the peace of the battlements and thumped heavily down the steps. The thick heavy acrid smell of the forge swelled in his lungs, the smiths had been hard at work forging more swords and armour. In the last few days the fires in the forge had not once laid idle.

Suddenly from above, the clouds gave an almighty snarl immediately the heavens opened. At once the soldiers bolted for cover, protecting their mail and weapons from rust. Adair dove quickly into a nearby tent, his fur boots squelched on the dry earth within, water dripped from his hair and from his nose. He wiped a hand across his face, thought it did little to dry himself. While running fingers through his hair in an attempt to dry it he noted that he had sheltered himself in a bunk tent, several cots were scattered irregularly about, he also noted he was alone. He cast a glance outside, the rain poured down in wavering shuddering sheets. It would a while before the storm cleared, knowing there was little else to do Adair sat himself on one of the cots. Momentarily he felt guilty for ruining someone's bunk, but it was unlikely anyone was going to get any sleep tonight anyway when battle loomed so menacingly close.

There came a rush of feet as a Stormcloak rushed inside the tent, dripping wet and gasping. Adair raised his eyes to the sudden arrival to find a drenched Svedi stood in the opening. She was wringing the water from her fair braid, he watched her silently, transfixed. His eyes followed the curve of her damp neck, the workings of her nimble fingers in her hair. Unexpectedly she raised her eyes into the gloom of the tent, there her eyes found him. Their eyes held, and without a word she crossed the trodden dirt between them and sat herself beside him on the cot. They watched in silence as the rain pound the earth outside, shards of glass and silver falling from the heavens. The thunder stomped and crashed high above them, like some restless furious beast.

''I'm scared.'' Svedi whispered suddenly, her voice was softer than a thrush's wing beat. Lightning cracked and the tent was bathed in a harsh bright light, Adair saw the terror in her eyes, he saw her tremble. He wrapped his arm around her damp and shivering form, and pulled her to him. A thrill shook his spine as she leant her head into the protective curve of his shoulder. Her wet cold hair clasped tightly to the warmth of him neck, her breath rushed hot and electric against his skin. His hairs stood on ends. He ran his hand through her sodden hair in slow strokes. ''I'm too.'' She raised her head to look at him, they were so close. Their noses touched, they shared breath. They both stilled, hesitated for a moment, afraid, unsure. Their breaths were uneven. The thunder roared above but the sound fell on deaf ears as Adair slowly leaned forward, and gently pressed his lips to hers. She did not pull away, but pulled him closer. They held each other tightly, desperately. There was no need for words, they both understood. They both needed this, they needed the comfort to chase away their fear, they needed this love and ecstasy to make them brave. In the gloom of the tent hands traveled, breath was sharp and lips seared.

...

The wind clawed and pulled at her short hair as Lianna scaled the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar. As she marched up the broken and weathered dark steps she stopped at a large snow drift blocking her path. She tried to manipulate the snow into water, the way that mad man had done. The snow shuddered and shifted across the path under her while, but did not turn to water, disheartened she gave up in her attempt and continued into the wind a sharp snow.

While she climbed her mind traveled back to her argument with Ulfric. It was always two steps forwards and three steps back with that man. Just when they were becoming...friends, he had to go and do something to mess it all up. She knew she was not innocent in this either, Gods knew they both had a temper and would snap at each other furiously. She had been so furious, so hurt and betrayed that he would dare to listen into a private conversation. Only now tramping through bitter winds did she realize how hypocritical she had been. How could she talk of betrayal and hurt while she worked against him? She sighed into the wind, her heart twisted in her chest. How hurt had she been over such a small thing, that pain was but a fraction of what he would feel if he discovered what she truly was. Not for the first time she considered turning her back against the Imperials, golden men with violet eyes flashed in her mind. She flinched. She trembled, her mind's eye saw blood spill to the floor and heard a pained scream. No, she could not let them hand her over to the Thalmor. She would play this damned role for a while more, but she knew she would hit her end point eventually. There was only so much her heart could take.

...

She found Arngeir in one of the many corridors of High Hrothgar, meditating. She had hovered a few feet away unsure exactly what to do, it wasn't like she could exactly go and talk to the other Greybeards about the Shout she needed to kill Alduin with.

''What winds have carried you here to us, Dragonborn?'' Lianna jumped, the man's eyes were still closed and she wondered by what strange magic he knew she was there.

''I have come for information.''

Arngeir opened his milky eyes and looked up at her ''What kind of information might this be?'' He asked while he made a gesture for her to sit. She sat upon the cold stone floor facing him, suddenly unsure of herself. She considered asking them about that strange powers that had risen from somewhere inside of her, but something made her hold her tongue. Maybe it was better to ask their leader, that was when ever or if she was ever going to meet him. ''I need to know about the Shout that the Old Heroes used to defeat Alduin.'' Even before the words had finished falling from her lips, she saw Arngeir stiffen and his brow lower in disapproval.

''How did you learn of such a thing? Who have you been talking to?''

''I hardly think it matters w-''

''Of course it matters, in such times we must know where you stand, or who you stand with.''

''It was the Blades who told me of the Shout.''

Arngeir snorted, as if the name was repugnant to him. ''Of course, they have always meddled in things they do not understand. It seems their audacity hasn't weakened, eve if their numbers have. They have always sought to pull the Dragonborn away from the path of wisdom.'' _Well, it's not like I was especially on the path of wisdom anyway. _''Have you learnt nothing from your time here, would you let them bend you to their will, to their demand.''

His words struck a sore nerve within her, and her temper flared. ''They _do not_ _control_ me! They just want to kill Alduin, don't you?''

The old man blinked up at her with his milky eyes. ''What I want is not important, nor has it ever been, Dragonborn. Have you ever considered that Alduin was not to be defeated? That this world was fated to end? Let it end and be reborn.''

She leapt to her feet ''What do you expect me to do?! Let Alduin destroy this world, let all the people on Nirn die?! Let all those I care about perish, just because you say the end was meant to be?!'' Her voice trembled with the Thu'um, around her the walls of the ancient monastery shook and shuddered.

''Yes.'' The monk answered, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Her hands were balled into furious fists at her sides. ''So you won't help me in learning this Shout.''

''No, Dragonborn. We will not.''

She looked down at the monk with disgust and outrage, she turned from the Greybeard and began to march away. When suddenly the monastery around them began to quake again, as a low Thu'um reverberated throughout the entire building. From the shadows there stepped forth a Greybeard, she couldn't say which one, they all looked the same to her. ''Arngeir. Rok las Dovahkiin, Strundu'ul. Rok fen Paarthurnax.'' Whatever the monk had said it obviously changed Arngeir's mind as the old man called her back.

''Forgive me I was...impertinent. I allowed my own emotions to sway my judgement.'' _And I thought what you wanted didn't matter_. Lianna thought with a grumble. ''Master Einarth reminded me of my duty. The decision to help you or not does not fall to me.''

''So, you'll help me learn this Shout then?''

''No, I cannot, because it is not a Shout known to us Dragonborn.'' _You could have tole me that in the first place. _''The Shout you seek is called 'Dragonrend', but as I have said we do not know it.''

''Why? I thought you knew all of the Shouts.''

''Dragonrend was lost to history before time had even began. It may be that only it's creators are the one who ever knew truly of it.''

''So how am I to defeat Alduin if the Shout is lost?''

Arngeir shrugged, ''Only Paarthurnax, the leader of our order, may know. That is, if he chooses to tell you.''

''I need to go and talk to Paarthurnax, then.''

''You aren't ready, you still are not a fully realised Dragonborn. But now, thanks to the Blades, you have questions that only Paarthurnax can answer. So yes you must go speak with him.''

''Why haven't you ever mentioned Paarthurnax before?''

''As I said, you weren't ready. He lives in seclusion up at the top of the mountain, and rarely talks to us and never to outsiders. Few have seen him, you are amongst the privileged few.'' She wondered why so few people had seen him, _he's just some ancient hermit like the rest of the Greybeards, right?_

''How do I exactly get to the top of the mountain?'' A blizzard had always battered the highest point of the mountain she would die of hypothermia before she reached the top, that was if the blizzard didn't blow her off the side of the mountain first.

''Only those strong in their Voice can find the path.'' Arngeir rose from his place on the floor and began to walk towards the courtyard. ''Come, we will teach you a Shout to open the way to Paarthurnax.''

...

The Imperials had breached the Whiterun's wall and their numbers had flooded through the Plains District. Imperial swords and arrows had cut through the Stormcloaks like a scythe through wheat. The Stormcloaks had been scattered throughout the Wind District, cornered and surrounded in small groups of blue in a mass of red. Adair brought his sword down through the chest of an Imperial, blood spilt from his lips as the steel cut through him, he was young more of a boy than a man. His eyes glazed as he toppled backwards lifelessly, with an easy motion Adair pulled his sword from the boy's chest. His eyes scanned across the battle, they were losing the battle, they had lost too many men.

''Shor's bones, they're at the castle.'' One of the Stormcloaks said in horror. Adair's eyes snapped to the towering castle high above them. His mouth went dry as Imperials stormed into the castle. Above the roar of the battle there came a hoarse bellow.

''RETREAT! RETREAT!''

The Stormcloaks ran, blue specs rushing through red. Adair ran hard with his shield-brothers his breath ragged and his legs threatening to give way beneath him. The Imperials didn't try to cut them down as they fled down into the lower blood saturated district. What strange mercy to let the cowards live, Adair thought as he ran. Far behind them the band of Stormcloaks heard a roar from the Imperials. The Stormcloak's eyes snapped up to the steps of Dragonreach, horror gripped them as they watched as the Imperial General threw a man to his knees. Even far above them they could make out the mass of grey hair on the man's head. The Stormcloaks held their breath as the Imperial General raised his sword high into the air and down through Grey-Mane's neck in one easy motion. A roar erupted from the Imperials as the General lifted the head into the air and as Grey-Mane's blood spilt down and stained the white steps.

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><p>The next chapter will be much longer and much better, I swear.<p> 


	48. Meditation

Ugh, this chapter gave me _so_ much trouble. _Youguysdon'tevenknow. _Literally took my like four days to write. It was originally planned to be much longer, but for some reason I just couldn't write this chapter. So I cut it down, which is why this is so freakin' short, I'm really really _really_ sorry. It's just one of _those_ chapters, unfortuantley. But on the other hand the next chapter will be up this weekend so...eh, it kind of balances out. Not really though... _  
><em>

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><p><strong>Force.<strong>Balance._Push._

Meditation

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><p>The sun was blotted out as a huge dragon fell from the sky to land before her, the ground trembled with such force as he landed Lianna tumbled backwards ungainly into the deep snow. She blinked up stunned, mouth agape, to see a huge dragon looking at her patiently, his large nostrils flared, drawing in her scent. He was by far the biggest dragon she had ever encountered on her travels, one of his pensive, almost melancholic eyes was as large as her head. He seemed old, his wings tattered and torn, fangs broken and scales bleached with sun and age.<p>

''Drem Wunduniik.'' The dragon boomed in a loud voice, it did not hold a snarl nor growl. It was a thick slow voice more suited for a old scholar or a grandfather than a towering dragon.''Tell me what brings you to my Strunmah...my mountain?'' He swung his large head to the side so to get a better look at her. She had never been so near to a dragon before, well she had never been this close to one who hadn't wanted to burn her, freeze her, or tear her in two between his jaws.

She scrabbled onto her feet, patting the snow from her robes, partly to make distance between them and partly to give herself time to control her tongue. Her tongue was thick and knotted in her mouth, shocked, it took her a moment to unfurl up tongue and speak. ''I was looking for the leader of the Greybeards.'' Hot fog stemmed from his nostrils as he watched her. ''Which I suppose is you...unless you're hiding a old man under your wing...''

''Yes, I am the one you seek. The bron call me Paarthurnax.''

''I didn't expect you to be a dragon...''

The old wyrm blinked down at her, studying her. 'I am as my father, Akatosh made me.'' He sounded almost...insulted. ''As you are Dovahkiin.''

''H-how did you kno-''

''Kiir, you smell of the souls of Dov.'' His large eyes pierced into hers. ''And yet you shrink from me like prey, you smell of faas, fear.'' He stretched his neck forward, his head low as he inspected her. He seemed curious as to what she was, how long had it been since he had seen a mortal human?

She swallowed heavily and tried to still her quaking limbs. Paarthurnax's breath was hot and potent and stunk of something foul, like sulphur. ''My only contact with dragons have been with ones that have wanted to kill me, or eat me, or both. I suppose it is a force of habit.''

The dragon lifted back his head, ''I will not naak, eat you, kiir. You have no need to worry. You jul have long tasted ahzid, bitter to me.'' She looked up at the wyrm a frown on her brow, humans tasted...bitter?

The old dragon turned from her, he crawled through the snow on long powerful lumbering limbs with a strange practised grace. She followed when he made a motion with his long barbed tail. Further across the mountain's plateau she followed paces behind him, careful to avoid his long tail that cut trenches in the frozen snow. They stooped when they reached a huge curved stone wall, it was something ancient probably as old as Paarthurnax himself. She stepped forward expecting to hear whispers of some word, but the wall was silent. That strange turbulent energy inside of her squirmed and spasmed while she was stood in its shadow, it was pushing and stretching at whatever held it back. ''What is this place?''

''This is the place where my brother lost to the bron long before your birth. This is where I have waited for hundreds of mortal years, this is were I meditate and repent. This is where I have waited for Alduin's daal, return and your kiin, birth as the Dovahkiin. This is my home.''

She blinked up at him stupidly not quite understanding what he meant, but he did not leave her any time to compose a question to what he said, before he unfolded his wings and stretched them in the air, the talons curved from the elbow of his wing glinted in the weak light.

''Now Dovahkiin, why have you come here, to my strunmah and disturbed my meditation?''

...

It turned out that Paarthurnax could not teach her Dragonrend, but instead she had to find something called an Elder scroll and hope that it could send her back in time to when the Nord heroes had used the Shout to defeat Alduin. And some how she might be able to learn the only problem was she had no bloody idea where or how to find an Elder scroll. She didn't even know what it looked like.

Despite hitting another wall in her quest to find the Dragonrend Shout, she had stayed on High Hrothgar learning from the dragon different Shouts that had eluded her in her travels. While the great dragon had taught her different words she had felt that energy inside of her burgeoning against whatever bound it inside her. A few weeks had past before Lianna finally asked the question that had been on her mind for a while. She explained to Paarthurnax how the energy had taking control of her and forced her to Shout against her will, the wyrm was quite for some time before he answered.

''That...energy you speak of, they are the ziil, souls of the dov you have slayed.''

''What do you mean?''

''As the Dovahkiin you absorb the souls of the dov that you slay. You then use their souls to learn Shouts, but the ziil does not simply, kren vanish but remains inside of you. As the Dovahkiin you can draw on the power of these souls.'' Lianna frowned at the dragon's words, not quite understanding what he meant. The dragon continued to explain. ''The souls of the dov not only hold their knowledge, but also their power. We dov are masters of magic of yol, fire and iiz, ice, you can draw on this power to make your lah, magic for stronger than any jul.

However kiir, the souls of the dov are arrogant and vicious and they would not hesitate du, devour you. Thankfully there is a barrier, your own sil, soul that protects you. What you experienced Dovahkiin, was a slip in the barrier, that is how you used the thu'um against your will.''

''Why haven't I heard about any of this before, why haven't the Greybeards or anybody else told me about this? I thought the Dragonborn could only learn the words of power.''

''Pah, do you really think you can krii, kill a God with Shouts alone? Do you think Akatosh would have crafted you to be so weak? That is why the bron who faced Alduin failed., they did not have the power of the dov to slay my brother. Few people know of the true power of the Dovahkiin, the Greybeards held their tongues on this because they knew you were not ready to control the sils within you.''

''And how am I to control them?''

''For the sils to bow to you, you must first have peace within yourself. If your own soul is strong than the dov will bow to you, and you will be able to draw on the power of the dov. However, if the dov were ever able to take control over you, if your own sil was to falter, the power would consume you and destroy you. Jul are weak and soft, your body would not be able to endure the raw energy of the dov. The dov would du, devour you until there is nothing left.''

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><p>So what do you think of my fiddling with what the Dragonborn is? Do you think it's a good idea a terrible one? If there's anything you don't understand about the concept don't hesitate to PM me. The next chapter will be out (like I said) this weekend and it will be back to normal length of 4 thousand or so words, and again I'm really sorry for the shortness but otherwise this chapter was just going to stump me forever and it would mean the end of the series. Yes, this chapter caused me that much fucking trouble.<p>

Oh yeah, I also started a new Skyrim fic, if you could go read it and possibly leave a review that would be nice 'cause it needs love...


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